
PR03 

EvefV Child Should Kno|^ 




MAR-Y E. BUR.T 



I 




Class V^\Z%b 

Book ^X5_ 

Copyright N" , 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSnV 





^ 






Prose Every Child Should Know 



The * 'Every Child Should Know" Books 



Poems Every Child Should Know, 
Edited by Mary E. Burt 

Fairy Tales Every Child Should 
Know, 

Edited by H. W. Mabie 
Myths Every Child Should Know, 

Edited by H. W. Mabie 

Songs Every Child Should Know, 
Edited by Dolores Bacon 

Legends Every Child Should 
Know, 

Edited by H. W. Mabie 

Heroes Every Child Should 
Know, 

Edited by H. W. Mabie 

Birds Every Child Should Know, 
By Neltje Blancha7i 



Water Wonders Every Child Should 
Know, 

By Jean M. Thompson 

Famous Stories Every Child Should 
Know, 

Edited by H. W. Mabie 

Hymns Every Child Should Know, 
Edited by Dolores Bacon 

Heroines Every Child Should Know, 
Co-edited by H. W. Mabie and 
Kate Stephens 

Essays Every Child Should Know, 
Edited by H. W. Mabie 

Prose Every Child Should Know, 

Edited by Mary E. Burt 




Dictograph by Mrs. Martin Scltiitzc 



Where childhood's fancy pursues a dream from 
the land of eloquence. 



PROSE THAT EVERY 
CHILD SHOULD KNOW 

A SELECTION OF THE BEST PROSE 
OF ALL TIMES FOR YOUNG PEOPLE 

EDITED BY MARY E. BURT 



DECORATED WITH PHOTOGRAPHS 
BY EVE WATSON SCHUTZE 




NEW YORK 

Doubleday, Page & Company 

1908 



Copyright, 1908, by 

Doubleday, Page & Company 

Published, April, 1908 






ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, 

INCLUDING THAT OF TRANSLATION INTO FOREIGN LANGUAGES, 

INCLUDING THE SCANDINAVIAN 



LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
Two Copies rteceiy^:- 

APR 7 iy08 

Ouwyngni entry 

0WiSSi4 XXc. No> 
, %c3 1 f^ 
\ COPY S, 



DEDICATION 

Did you ever see a schoolhouse in the 

Commercial Centre of a great City, 

a schoolhouse standing amid the smoke of dingy factories, 

the grime and clatter of warehouses, and the deafening roar 

of railroads? 

Did you ever go into the halls of this schoolhouse 

on May Mornings 

and catch the delicate perfume of violets,— 

and into the schoolrooms and find a fresh, dewy violet 

on each desk,— a violet for the child to see^ and own, 

and wonder at, and love ? 

Did you look into the Office of the Principal 

and find a gentle woman " in home-spun," 

an affectionate, affirmative spirit, standing "Amid the 

Eternal Ways," loving saint and sinner alike? 

Just a woman, binding up little bruised fingers, 

wiping away childish tears, settling trivial disputes, 

washing dirty upturned faces, putting everybody 

right and sweet for the day, aye— For The Day. 

HERE'S A BUNCH OF VIOLETS, 

boys and girls, 

for 

ALICE L. BARNARD. 



ACKNOWLEDGMENTS 

TO PUBLISHERS AND AUTHORS 

It sometimes happens that there are people who do 
not know that authors and editors and the Titles of 
Books and Series are protected by copyright laws, and 
also by what is more binding, — Professional Courtesy. 
Since publishing *Toems Every Child Should Know," 
a very curious case of legal infringement and profes- 
sional infringement has come up. There are some 
things that an editor can't do and be a gentleman. And 
another thing that an editor of books can't do is *'to 
hustle" and ''rush things into print." No valuable 
editor or author will do any work except from an 
inner leading, and out of a full heart and a full 
knowledge. He will do nothing on time, nor under 
superintendence; nor will he do for a new firm what 
he has already done for an old firm or anything that 
competes with any one. 

Special permission has been obtained under the laws 
of courtesy, as well as the copyright laws, for each 
copyrighted selection in this volume, and the right to 
publish has been purchased, except in those cases where 
the author or the publisher has, for reasons of friend- 
ship, given the permission. In addition to business 
arrangements, we wish to extend our thanks and ac- 
knowledgments to those firms which have so kindly 
allowed us to use their material. 

To the Century Company, for Abraham Lincoln^s 
"Address at Gettysburg," "The Bixby Letter," "The 
Black Hawk War," "Suspicion"— all from "The Com- 
plete Works of Abraham Lincoln," published and copy- 

vii 



viii Prose 

righted by that company; "A Wind-storm in the 
Mountains of Cahfornia," from John Muir's "Moun- 
tains of CaHfornia"; ''Sonny's Diploma," from 
"Sonny," by Ruth McEnery Stuart. 

To Francis D. Tandy, for 'The Gift of Eloquence," 
from Richard Watson Gilder's ''Lincoln as a Writer." 
To C. P. Farrel, for Robert G. Ingersoll's "Address 
on Abraham Lincoln." To The North American Re- 
view, for "A Lincoln Story," from "Reminiscences of 
Abraham Lincoln." 

To Houghton, Mifflin & Company, for "High Life," 
from Thoreau; "A Friend," "Self-Reliance," "The 
Emancipation of Negroes in the British West Indies," 
"A Man Passes for That He is Worth," from the 
works of Ralph Waldo Emerson; "Abolition," from 
"The Life of William Lloyd Garrison," by his s^ns ; 
"The Eagle," "The Crow," "The Perils of a Bird," 
"The Perils of a Bee," from the works of John Bur- 
roughs; "Good-breeding," from "John Percyfield," by 
C. Hanford Henderson ; "No Farming Without a Boy," 
from "Being a Boy," by Charles Dudley Warner. 

To Charles Scribner's Sons, for the following copy- 
righted selections: "The Donkey-clock," "The Rose- 
clock," "How the Griffin Taught School," from Frank 
R. Stockton's "Fanciful Tales" ; "Elpenor and the 
Wine-cup," "The Lotus-eaters," "Ulysses at the 
Palace of Circe," from "Odysseus, the Hero of Ithaca" 
(a child's book of the Odyssey) ; "The Slaying of the 
Wine-bags," from "Don Quixote" (School Series); 
"My First Home," "My Alligator's Home," from "The 
Lanier Book" (School Series), by Sidney Lanier, 
"Silence," from "Retrospects and Prospects," by 
Sidney Lanier; "Peter Pan among the Birds," from 
"The Little White Bird," by J. M. Barrie ; "The Bliz- 
zard," "Reverence for Motherhood," "All around a 
Bird's Nest," from "The Boy General," by Elizabeth 
Custer; "A Southern Storm," "The Independence of 
Bras Coupe," from "The Cable Story Book" of George 



Acknowledgments ix 

W. Cable; ''Creative Education," from Henry van 
Dyke's "Essays in Application." 

To Doubleday, Page & Company, for "The Cold," 
from Sidney Lanier's "Shakspere and His Forerun- 
ners"; and "Putting All the Eggs into One Basket," 
from "The Autobiography of a Tomboy," by Jeannette 
L. Gilder. 

To T. Y. Crowell & Company, for selections from 
"Cuore," by De Amicis. 

To The Outlook, for Hamilton W. Mabie's "The 
Passion for Perfection." 

V To The Cosmopolitan, for a selection from Edwin 
Markham's "Spinners in the Dark." 

To The Chicago Record-Herald, for "Do Men Merit 
Franchise?" by Kate Cougar. 

To The London Times, for Lord Rosebery's "Ad- 
dress on Queen Victoria." 

To E. P. Dutton & Co., for a selection from Maeter- 
linck's "The Life of a Bee." 

To The Taylor-Trotzvood Magazine, for "The 
Rights of Childhood," by John Trotwood Moore. 

To William Croswell Doane, Bishop of Albany, for 
"The Gentleman," from the writings of his father. 

To Frank Parsons (and The Chicago Teachers' Bul- 
letin), for a selection from "The History of New 
Zealand." 

We are further indebted for personal permission 
to use selections from their works to the following 
authors: G. W. Cable, John Burroughs, Edwin Mark- 
ham, Elizabeth Custer, Thomas Burt, M. P.; Dr. 
Henry van Dyke, William M. Salter, John Trotwood 
Moore, Ruth McEnery Stuart, John Muir, John E. 
Burton, Frank M. Chapman; also to Bristow Adams 
for an original production, and to Edward Lippincott 
Tilton, author of "The Architecture of the Argive 
Herseum," for the beautiful decorations of the cover, 
linings, and frontispiece, and to Eva Watson Schutze 
of Chicago, for her charming photographs. 



INTRODUCTION 

Is "Prose Every Child Should Know'' a collec- 
tion of hit-or-miss selections scrabbled together, guess- 
work fashion, just to sell? Was this volume made 
"under the eye of the firm," their ear to the ground, 
or submitted for approval to committees on "weak 
tea"? And was the book edited just to keep it of 
the same size and price with the rest of the set "for 
the convenience of the public?" No, truly. 

This volume is a growth. It is the growth of a 
life-time, based on happy hours in School and Sunday- 
school, Study-hours with great teachers, Debating 
Clubs, Teachers' meetings, and conferences with un- 
worldly women and great men. It is the crystallization 
of childhood's intense emotions when the big boys and 
girls, their faces aglow, spouted declamations ; the 
recollections of Fourth of July celebrations when Gen- 
eral Boyd made speeches and some loyal citizen read 
the Declaration of Independence, solemnly publishing 
and declaring anew that "these united colonies are, and 
of right ought to be, free and independent." 

This book is the recalling of dear old lessons in 
United States History, when the war was inevitable, 
and "We set up the war-whoop and dug up the toma- 
hawk," and "The birthday of the Father of his Coun- 
try" was ever freshly remembered by American 
hearts." 

This book is the outcome of the Eloquence that burst 
forth at the time of the Civil War, when the little 
deacon marched round the public square on Sunday, 
playing a big bass-drum bigger than himself, the 
church- folks looking on askance; for the downfall of 



xii Prose '' 

Sunday was worse than the downfall of Vicksburg. 
And the little girls met to pick old linen into lint to 
send to soldiers in hospitals. Little girls, their feet 
dangling, talking about the Wisconsin Eagle, "Old 
Abe," screeching over battle-fields, — and the Emanci- 
pation Proclamation. And then the country was 
draped in mourning. 

This collection is drawn from school-notes, — notes 
of happy years spent with my own pupils in the land 
of Eloquence, where we discovered literary treasures 
that every child should know: Homer's Ulysses and 
his companions who had been turned into swine: 
("Rough on Grant" remarked a farmer, looking at a 
painting of the scene). Demosthenes exclaiming, "O, 
my countrymen, when will you do your duty?" Cains 
Marius inquiring, "Where but in the spirit of man 
can his nobility be lodged?" Ruskin growling, "It is 
sternly impossible for the English public, at this mo- 
ment, to understand any thoughtful writing, — so in- 
capable of thought has it become in its insanity of 
avarice." Chatham warning, "You must repeal" these 
acts or "the kingdom is undone!'' Grattan reminding, 
"The Secretary stood alone!" Stockton with his 
donkey-clock "kicking out the time" ; Cable with his 
storm "like fifty witches flouting up the curtain," Bur- 
roughs with a honey bee "ahold of his collar" ; Kings- 
ley with his "turnips bursting for fear of the ex- 
aminer" ; Lanier with an alligator "who never quarrels 
with his cook." 

Sixty years ago there lived a poet and editor who, 
with the spirit of a conqueror, gathered up the 
Eloquence of the ages and made editing a religion. 
Hawthorne, too, rewrote, that is, he edited the myths. 
More than twenty years later, Lanier edited in prose 
(and Tennyson in poetry) the Arthurian tales. After 
these earnest souls let the editor approach his work 
"with bent head and beseeching hands," for he stands 
on holy ground. For there is more religion in editing 



Introduction xiii 

one good book that shall carry forth and hand down 
the torch of life, than in writing a dozen of indifferent 
merit. 

In the days of Hawthorne and Sargent the possibili- 
ties of the present day did not exist. Lanier, Barrie, 
Cable, Stockton, Markham, De Amicis, Eugene Field 
were children; and Burroughs, Muir, Howells mere 
youths; and even Carlyle, Lincoln, Ruskin, Kingsley, 
and Curtis were undiscovered countries. Since then the 
world has been "sprinkled with merriment" by Stock- 
ton, Collodi, Lanier, Warner, Howells, Curtis, and 
Field. The world of letters has grown merry; in all 
writings of any consequence it has grown clean and 
dignified, simple, philosophical, and kind. And it has 
separated itself from that crude set of professional- 
funny-people who know not the difference between 
permanent wit (the wit that is heavy-laden with sym- 
pathy) and the cheap clap-trap of an unbridled tongue. 

The prose that every child should know! "What is 
the prose that every child should know? It is the 
prose that will follow him all the days of his life, 
the prose that "propagates a brain," ''deals with the 
permanent elements of life," finds "a lesson of the 
spirit, a Tree of Life, in the oak and pine," clothes 
the naked soul, reveals the music which is "Love in 
search of a Word" ; prose that is born in the manger, 
— "pure with a sense of the passing of saints," "cool 
for the dutiful weighing of ill with good" ; prose that 
is "candid and simple and nothing-withholding and 
free" ; prose that is "the art which never violates the 
principles of fitness" ; prose that is Science "never dis- 
trusting the methods of Reason"; prose that "in the 
tune of the insect can hear the approaching tramp of 
the human army that makes for civilisation"; prose 
that mends mortal hurts, — "tunes the ear to detect the 
music there is in the life of ordinary men and women" ; 
prose that is "in seach of the vital," — tells "the story 
of expanding brotherhood," — "aerates our emotions 



xiv Prose 

and captures our reason" ; prose in which "we have a 
sense of touching something aHve and real," — in which 
"the writer comes forth and is not concealed" ; prose 
which is "the precious life-blood of a master-spirit," 
— this is the prose that every child should know. 

"Prose Every Child Should Know" is a reading book 
for home culture. And it is a collection of recitations 
for school-use. It is graded according to age, from 
the three-year-old child who "bellows" when he misses 
a word, — to the college student and Normal School 
Graduate. Part I. contains literary treasures for tiny 
people; and Part VI. concludes the book with ques- 
tions of the day for mature minds, and debating so- 
cieties. No youth makes a better off-hand speech from 
an ill-stored mind; it is a matter of importance to a 
child to have his mind packed with well-digested, as- 
similated thought. 

Mary E. Burt. 

New York, 

February 21, 1908. 



CONTENTS 

PART I 

PAGE 

Introduction ....... xi 

The Influence of a Clean Face .... 3 

Thomas De Witt Talmage 
What Every Little Child Should Know About 

Politeness 3 

George Washington 
On "Salt, at the Time of the American Revolu- 
tion" . 4 

John Adams 

The Patience of Flowers in Being Squeezed . 4 

John Ruskin 

A Poor Reward 5 

Aristotle 

The Largest Love 5 

Fenelon 

Sandy and Pippa 5 

Anonymous 

A Bird's Voice 6 

Eugenie De Guerin 

Cold 6 

Sidney Lanier 
The Oily Driver 7 

C. COLLODI 

The Lord Is My Shepherd .... 7 
Bible 

XV 



XVI 



Prose 



The Black Hawk War 

Abraham Lincoln 

The Beatitudes 

Bible 
A Little Lecture for a Little Girl 

Mrs. Johnstone 
A Child Can Be Just 

Eugenie De Guerin 
Virtue, Its Own Reward . 
Zeno 

The Crow 

John Burroughs 
The Country of Playthings 

C. COLLODI 

Remember Thy Creator 

Bible 
Tom Brown Goes to Rugby 

Thomas Hughes 
Under the Flapdoodle Trees 

Charles Kingsley 
The Little Wooden Puppet Tells How He Be 
came a Donkey .... 

C. COLLODI 

The Goose That Laid the Golden Egg 

JEsop 
The Whistle 

Benjamin Franklin 
All Around a Bird's Nest . 

Elizabeth B. Custer 
Protect the Birds .... 

Frank M. Chapman 



13 
14 
' 14 
16 
16 



Contents xvii 

PAGE 

The Donkey-Clock i8 

Frank R. Stockton 

The Lotus-Eaters 20 

Homer 

The Perils of a Bird 21 

John Burroughs 

Turning the Grindstone 22 

Benjamin Franklin 
Peter Pan Among the Birds .... 23 

J. M. Barrie 
Virginius, as Tribune, Refuses the Appeal of 

Appius Claudius 25 

LiVY 

The Street Arab of Paris 26 

Victor Hugo 
The Country Mouse and the City Mouse . . 26 

Horace 

Nobility of Labor 28 

Rev. Orville Dewey 

Cleansing the Fountain 28 

Eugenie De Guerin 

My Brother's Schoolmistress .... 29 

Edmondo De Amicis 

The Fourth of July 30 

Daniel Webster 

PART II 

A Lincoln Story 35 

Ulysses S. Grant 

Protect the Trees 36 

Bristow Adams 



XVIU 



Prose 



What Is Property? 

Alphonse Karr 
Hunting in Utopia 

Sir Thomas More 
The Folly of Pride . 

Rev. Sydney Smith 
The Little Rose-Clock 

Frank R. Stockton 
The Love of Home . 

Daniel Webster 
Cassio on Intemperance 

William Shakespeare 
Earnestness .... 

Lord Lytton 
Saying Too Much 

L. C. Judson 
Ulysses at the Home of Circe . 
Homer 

The School 

Edmondo De Amicis 
The Perils of a Bee . 

John Burroughs 
Peace and Righteousness . 

Theodore Roosevelt 
Character of Washington . 

Charles Phillips 
Taxes, the Price of Glory . 

Rev. Sydney Smith 
The Revolutionary Alarm . 

George Bancroft 
The Ten Commandments . 
Bible 



Contents 



XIX 



Sir Roger and the Gipsies 

Joseph Addison 
The Slaying of the Wine-Bags . 
Cervantes 
The True Distinction of a State 

William Ellery Channing 

The Poor 

Edmondo De Amicis 

Against PhiHp 

Demosthenes 
On Profanity in the Army 

George Washington 
No Farming Without a Boy 

Charles Dudley Warner 
Putting All of the Eggs in One Basket 
Jeannette L. Gilder 
Great Art is the Expression of a Great Man 
John Ruskin 



57 
59 
6i 
62 

63 
64 
65 
66 

67 



PART III 



The Eagle 

John Burroughs 

A Southern Storm 

G. W. Cable 

The BHzzard 

Elizabeth B. Custer 
A Wind-Storm in the Forests of California 

John Muir 
My Alligator's Home . . . . 
Sidney Lanier 



71 

72 
72 
74 
77 



XX 



Prose 



Our Poets Have Discovered America 

Edwin Markham 
How the Griffin Taught School 

Frank R. Stockton 

The Phantom- Ship 

Washington Irving 
Address of Black Hawk to General Street 

Frozen Words 

Joseph Addison 
The Declaration of 1776 . 

John Quincy Adams 

The Right of Trial .... 

Colonel Isaac Barre 

Every Man Is Great .... 

William Ellery Channing 
The Birthday of Washington . 

RuFUS Choate 
On Meidias, the Rich, at the Bar of Justice 

Demosthenes 
Men, Better Than Territory 

John Ruskin 
The Vital Touch in Life . 

Rev. William S. Rainsford 
France and the United States . 

George Washington 
Henry Clay's Reception in Baltimore 
Anonymous 

Monopoly 

William Paley 
The Freedom of the Fly . 

John Ruskin 



Contents 



XXI 



My Castles in Spain 103 

George William Curtis 

Vanity at the Vicar's 105 

Oliver Goldsmith 

Bo-bo and the Roast Pig 107 

Charles Lamb 

The Independence of Bras Coupe . . .ill 

G. W. Cable 

The Evening School 114 

Edmondo De Amicis 

The Gentleman 116 

George Washington Doane 

Reverence for Motherhood 117 

Elizabeth B. Custer 
What Good Will the Monument Do? . . .118 

Edward Everett 

Barbarism of Our British Ancestors . .119 

William Pitt (The Second) 

Quick Wits 121 

*" Roger Ascham 

Appeal to the Best in Men .... 122 

Rev. William S. Rainsford 
The Home-Coming of Rip Van Winkle . . 122 

Washington Irving 
Brutus' Speech on the Death of Caesar . . 126 
William Shakespeare 

The Duel of Nations 127 

Charles Sumner 

The Declaration of Independence . . . 129 

Thomas Jefferson 

America Unconquerable 134 

William Pitt (Earl of Chatham) 



xxii Prose 

PAGE 

Union and Liberty, One and Inseparable . .135 
Daniel Webster 

The Sanctity of Treaties 137 

Fisher Ames 

Compensation 138 

Ralph Waldo Emerson 

Abolition 139 

William Lloyd Garrison 



PART IV 

Examination Day in the Land of the Tomtod- 

dies 143 

Charles Kingsley. 

A Russian Bath 147 

Stevens 
The Stream That Was Made to Work . . 149 

Alphonse Karr 
How to Welcome the Schoolmate from a Foreign 

Land 151 

Edmondo De Amicis 

On His Blindness 152 

John Milton 

Truth and Truthfulness 152 

J. G. Holland 

Sensitiveness i54 

John Ruskin 

Treatment of Sisters I55 

Rev. Horace Winslow 

A Friend 156 

Ralph Waldo Emerson 



Contents xxiii 

PAGE 

Suspicion , 157 

Abraham Lincoln 
Elpenor and the Wine-Cup .... 157 

Homer 
The Old Trail to the Mother-Lode . . .159 

John E. Burton 
The Schoolmaster Is Abroad . . . .160 

Lord Brougham 
Aristocracy ....... 161 

Robert R. Livingston 

Eulogium on Franklin 162 

Count De Mirabeau 
John Adams' Speech on the Declaration of Inde- 
pendence, as Imagined by Daniel Webster . 163 
Daniel Webster 
Imperishability of Great Examples . . . 167 
Edward Everett 

Reverence 168 

Mrs. Charles Bray 

Separation from New England . . . . 171 

Richard Yates 

A Political Pause 171 

Charles James Fox 

An Appeal to Arms 172 

Patrick Henry 

The War Is Inevitable 174 

Patrick Henry 

Against Employing Indians in War . . .175 

William Pitt (Earl of Chatham) 

British Aggressions 177 

JosiAH Quincy, Jr. 



XXIV 



Prose 



To the American Troops Before the Battle 

Long Island 

George Washington 
The Constitution of the United States 
As Others See Us . 

George William Curtis 

High Life 

Henry David Thoreau 
Prophesying After the Event 

Charles Kings ley 
The Model Cotton Mill . 

John Trot wood Moore 
Vindication of the Press . 

John Milton 
Abraham and the Fire-Worshippers . 
Benjamin Franklin 

Charity 

Bible 

Contentment 

Marcus Aurelius Antoninus 
Restricted Property .... 
Anonymous 

Self-Reliance 

Ralph Waldo Emerson 
The Gift of Eloquence 

Richard Watson Gilder 
Address at Gettysburg 

Abraham Lincoln 
On Abraham Lincoln .... 
Robert G. Ingersoll 
Northern Labourers .... 
Henry Wilson 



of 



178 



Contents xxv 

\ 

PAGE 

American Taxation 220 

Edmund Burke 

England's Right to Tax America . . .221 

Edmund Burke 

A Sufficient Naval Force 222 

John C. Calhoun 

The Noblest Public Virtue 224 

Henry Clay 
Return of British Fugitives .... 225 

Patrick Henry 
The First Step to Reconciliation with America. 

I. Removal of Troops from Boston . . 227 
II. The Repeal Claimed by Americans as a 

Right 229 

William Pitt (Earl of Chatham) 

Against the Embargo 231 

JosiAH Quincy 

On Sudden Political Conversions . . . 232 

Daniel Webster 

The North American Indians 234 

Timothy Flint 

Rejection of the Reform Bill 238 

Rev. Sydney Smith 

To the Army Before Quebec . . . .239 

General Wolfe 

PART V 

The First Home 243 

Sidney Lanier 

Clap a Bridle on Thy Tongue .... 244 

Thomas Carlyle 



xxvi Prose 

PAGE 

A Man Passes for That He is Worth . . . 245 
Ralph Waldo Emerson 

Sincerity 246 

John Tillotson 

Humility Versus Vain Glory . ... 248 

John Ruskin 

The Life of a Father Bee 250 

I. Maurice Maeterlinck 
11. John Burroughs 
The Autocracy of Youth and the Modesty of 

Age 251 

Robert Browning 

The Particular Lady 252 

Anonymous 

Good-Breeding 255 

C. Hanford Henderson 

The Passion for Perfection 256 

Hamilton W. Mabie 
The Hebrew Nationality . . . . . 257 

Hannah Adams 
Emancipation of Negroes in the British West 

Indies 258 

Ralph Waldo Emerson 

Running Business on the Golden Rule . . . 259 

John Trot wood Moore 

The Bixby Letter 260 

Abraham Lincoln 

Letter to Lord Chesterfield 261 

Samuel Johnson 

Spartacus to the Gladiators .... 263 

Elijah Kellogg 



Contents xxvii 

PAGE 

The Character of WilHam Pitt, Earl of Chatham 266 
Henry Grattan 

Defence of Socrates 267 

Plato 
The Speech of Socrates on His Own Condemna- 
tion 273 

Plato 

Death of Socrates 275 

Plato 

Not Vanquished by Philip 278 

Demosthenes 

On the Law of Leptines 280 

Demosthenes 
Speech of a Scythian to Alexander . . . 282 

Q. CURTIUS 

Caius Marius to the Romans, on the Objections to 

Making Him General 283 

Sallust 

What a Great Nation Cannot Do . . . 285 

John Ruskin 

The Fate of the Reformer 286 

Lord Brougham 

Voyage of the Mayflozver 288 

Edward Everett 
Rights of the Indians Defended . . . 289 

Edward Everett 
On Conciliation with America .... 291 

Edmund Burke 

The American War Denounced .... 294 

William Pitt (The Second) 

National Gratitude 295 

Henry Grattan 



xxviii Prose 

The South During the Revolution 

Robert Y. Hayne 
Peaceable Secession .... 

Daniel Webster 
Against the Force Bill 

John C. Calhoun 
American Labourers 

C. C. Naylor 

The Free Mind 

William Ellery Channing 
Judges Should be Free 

James A. Bayard 



PAGE 
296 

298 
299 



PART VI 

Sonny's Diploma 305 

Ruth McEnery Stuart 

On Rising With the Lark 309 

Charles Lamb 

Creative Education 310 

Henry van Dyke 

Conscious Activity 311 

Friedrich Froebel 

Men Always Fit for Freedom . . . .312 

T. B. Macaulay 

The Rights of Childhood 312 

John Trotwood Moore 

Silence 316 

Sidney Lanier 

Opinion 317 

Marcus Aurelius Antoninus 

Crossing the Rubicon 318 

James Sheridan Knowles 



Contents xxix 

PAGE 

On Reducing the Army 320 

William Pulteney 
Against Foreign Entanglements . . .321 

George Washington 

The Foreign Policy of Washington . . . 323 

Charles James Fox 

Sectarian Tyranny 324 

Henry Grattan 
A Republic or a Monarchy? .... 325 

Victor Hugo 
Mr. Tulliver's Opinion of His Wife and Children 327 

George Eliot 
Do Men Merit Franchise? . . . . 329 

Kate Gougar 

The Death Penalty for New Offences . . 330 

Lord Byron 

Labour Struggles 331 

Thomas Burt, M.P. 

Trusts 335 

Grover Cleveland 

The Real Business Man 336 

William Jennings Bryan 

Queen Victoria 337 

Lord Rosebery 

Old-Age Pensions 341 

Frank Parsons 

Spinners in the Dark 342 

Edwin Markham 

The Puritans 344 

Theodore Roosevelt 
Morality the Essence of Life . . . . 349 

William M. Salter 
Index of Authors 357 



PART I. 
The Budding Moment 



Prose Every Child Should Know 



The Influence of a Clean Face. 

THOMAS DE WITT TALMAGE, 1832-1902. 

V "The Influence of a Clean Face" is placed first in this volume because 
Frederick, aged three, learned it while sitting in his mother's lap as she 
taught it to Hansel, four and a half years old, who had chosen it from 
several "little speeches." 

Frederick wanted to declaim it to me and did so with great unction. 
But v/hen he came to the hardest word he hesitated; so I prompted him. 
Then Frederick cried. He bellowed. Frederick is sensitive and he is not 
afraid of hard words. He does not want to be prompted. He is the 
youngest "orator" represented in this book and the youngest is generally 
the leader. "Forbid them not." 

A CHILD, coming from a filthy home, was taught at 
school to wash his face. He went home so sweet and 
clean that his mother washed her face. When the 
father came from his work and saw the improvement, 
he washed his face. The neighbors who called in, saw 
the change and washed their faces, until all the people 
in that street had clean faces ; and the next street 
copied their example, and the whole city became clean 
because one school-boy washed his face. 

What Every Little Child Should Know About 
Politeness. 

GEORGE WASHINGTON, 1732-1799. 

This "speech" is for Tommie, aged five, whose mother teaches him 
to "speak pieces." Tommie likes to learn songs and sing them to you. 
He will learn anything you have a mind to teach him. Our best men 
come from the ranks of those little boys who learn great lessons while 
standing at the mother's knee. 

Sleep not when others speak. Sit not when others 
stand. Speak not when you should hold your peace. 



4 Prose 

Turn not your back to others. Show not yourself glad 
at the misfortune of another. Play not the peacock. 
Gaze not on the marks or blemishes of others, and 
ask not how they came. Think before you speak. 



On "Salt, at the Time of the American Revolution." 

JOHN ADAMS, 1735-1826. 

The Rev. Arthur Mitchell of Chicago, in a sermon to children, once 
said: "Let no little child think that what he does is unimportant because 
he is little." This selection shows that in a great crisis the very young 
and the verj' old may render vital service. Henry, who is six years old 
and thinks he is useless because he is so young, can learn this little 
"speech" and say it to Grandmamma, aged ninety, who thinks she is 
useless because she is so old. 

Shoes, five dollars a pair ! Salt, twenty-seven dollars 
a bushel ! Butter, ten shillings a pound ! All the old 
women and young children are gone down to the Jer- 
sey shore to make salt. Salt water is boiling all round 
the coast, and I hope it will increase ; for it is nothing 
but heedlessness and shiftlessness that prevents us from 
making salt enough for a supply; but necessity will 
bring us to it. Let my countrymen make salt and live 
without sugar and rum. 



The Patience of Flowers in Being Squeezed. 

JOHN RUSKIN, 1819-1900. IN "PROSERPINA." 

For the little girl who ruthlessly plucks all the pretty flowers from a 
flower-bed and squeezes the life out of them for no reason. 

Flowers grow as near as they can to each other. 
Those in the middle get squeezed. Some flowers don't 
like being squeezed at all. Fancy a squeezed morning- 
glory! But the heather bells like it and look all the 
prettier for it, — not a squeezed one when taken alone 
by itself, but the cluster all together by their patience. 



Prose 5 

A Poor Reward. 

ARISTOTLE, 384-322 B.C. 

More than two thousand years ago one of the greatest philosophers 
of all the ages, reached down across the centuries this message to the 
children of to-day. 

What does a man gain by telling a lie? He is not 
believed when he tells the truth. 

The Largest Love. 

FENELON, 1651-171S- 

That love for one from which there doth not spring 
Wide love for all, is but a worthless thing. — Lowell. 

I LOVE my family better than myself. I love my 
country better than my family. I love mankind better 
than my country. 

Sandy and Pippa. 

ANONYMOUS. 

This selection is for timid children. Willie, Superintendent of a De- 
partment in the Railway Service, do you remember when at the age of 
five you started for the market to do an errand for your mother? But 
you met "A GREAT BIG GOOSE." You came back and sat very still 
for a while. Then you exclaimed, "Who's afraid of the goose!" There 
is always a great big goose in the way for every timid child. 

Sandy is a brave little yellow kitten. He never 
whimpers and cheeps like ''the broken-hearted little 
beast" in the Jungle Book. He never tries to run into 
the middle of the room, for he is only seven days old 
and his eyes are not open. But he makes up his mind 
to feel his way around the side of the room, leaning 
against the wall, and he does it. He wants to find 
Pippa, the big, yellow dog, and cuddle down in her 
curly neck as she lies on the rug. His mother stuffs 
him with milk until he is as hard as a baseball. He 
licks her face and then he starts bravely forth, and 
when he gets there Pippa noses him and tumbles him 
on the floor and says : "You are a brave little kitten." 



6 Prose 

A Bird's Voice. 

EUGENIE DE GU^RIN, 1805-1848. 

Abraham Lincoln, six feet and four inches in height, a giant in 
stature, with muscles of iron! As a man he could not sleep when the 
storm had blown the nest and the nestlings from the tree until he had 
restored them to the mother bird. — John E. Burton. 

This selection is for the little girl out in Montana, who took a 
naturalist a mile or two to see a little bird's nest in the ground. 

My little bird was in the cat's claws when I came 
into the room. I took it from the cat, who let it go. 
The bird was frightened at first ; then it felt so de- 
lighted that it began to sing with all its might, as if to 
thank me for its voice. 

Cold. 

(Copyrighted by Doubleday, Page & Company.) 

SIDNEY LANIER, 1842-1881. IN "SHAKESPERE AND HIS 
FORERUNNERS." 

Why is this selection here, little Carl? Because Lanier, the poet, 
would teach compassion for one of the direst forms of misery. You 
will go to the coast of Florida for the winter, you and thirty other boys, 
to sunny school-rooms and sea-shore pleasures. And you will think of 
the army of little children shivering in New York. 

I THANK Heaven that I know what it is to be cold — 
to be cold from the crown of the head to the sole of 
the foot, to be cold from the cuticle in to the heart, 
and from the heart to the soul : I thank Heaven for it 
because, knowing this, I have a new revelation of the 
possibility of suffering, and I am able to find a paradise 
in a common wood fire. Knowing this, I declare to 
you there is not a more pathetic sight in this world than 
a poor man who is thoroughly cold from week to week. 
It is the refinement of torture. 

It does not gnaw, like hunger, which presently be- 
comes a sort of insanity and relieves itself: it is a 
dead, unblest, icy torment. I used to see men in the 
army whose silent endurance of cold brought more 
tears to my eyes than all the hunger and all the 
wounds. 



Prose 



The Oily Driver. 

CARLO LORENZINI (C. COLLODI). ADAPTED FROM "THE 
ADVENTURES OF PINOCCHIO." 

The oily driver represents all those allurements that draw children 
away from duty. Discernment and resistance are more than a match 
for the oily driver. Little Hansel, aged four and a half years, likes 
this story and wants the rest of it. He likes to "speak" it. And he 
fears that some noisy boys in the street will become donkeys. 

The oily driver ! That monster had a face of milk 
and honey. He went from time to time through the 
world with a carriage and collected all the naughty 
l;)oys that were tired of books and school. After he had 
filled his carriage he took them to the Country of 
Playthings, where they passed the time in having fun. 
When these poor deluded boys had played for a long 
time they turned into donkeys and were led away and 
sold in the city, and in this way the oily driver be- 
came a millionaire. 



The Lord is My Shepherd. 

DAVID (TWENTY-THIRD PSALM), 1451 B.C. 

This selection is beautiful literature, as well as Sacred Writing. When 
I was a child I committed to memory every week several chapters from 
the Bible and recited them on Sunday to my teacher. The beautiful 
passages of the Bible should be memorised. Any child, six years old, 
can learn this from the mother's lips. 

The Lord is my shepherd: I shall not want. He 
maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth 
me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul ; he 
leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's 
sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the 
shadow of death, I will fear no evil : for thou art v/ith 
me; thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me. Thou 
preparest a table before me in the presence of mine 
enemies ; thou anointest my head with oil ; my cup run- 
neth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me 
all the days of my life; and I will dwell in the house 
of the Lord forever. 



8 Prose 

The Black Hawk War. 

ABRAHAM LINCOLN, 1809-1865. 

From "Abraham Lincoln: Complete Works," published by The Cen- 
tury Co. 

Mr. Speaker, did you know I am a military hero? 
Yes, Sir ; in the days of the Black Hawk war I fought, 
bled, and came away. Speaking of General Cass's 
career reminds me of my own. I was not at Stillman's 
defeat, but I was about as near it as Cass was to Hull's 
surrender; and, like him, I saw the place very soon 
afterward. It is quite certain I did not break my 
sword, for I had none to break, but I bent a musket 
pretty badly on one occasion. If Cass broke his sword, 
the idea is he broke it in desperation ; I bent the musket 
by accident. If General Cass went in advance of me in 
picking huckleberries, I guess I surpassed him in 
charges upon the wild onions. If he saw any live, 
fighting Indians, it was more than I did, but I had a 
good many bloody struggles with the mosquitoes, and 
although I never fainted from the loss of blood, I can 
truly say I was often very hungry. 

The Beatitudes. 

Blessed are the poor in spirit : for theirs is the king- 
dom of heaven. Blessed are they that mourn : for they 
shall be comforted. Blessed are the meek: for they 
shall inherit the earth. Blessed are they which do 
hunger and thirst after righteousness: for they shall 
be filled. Blessed are the merciful : for they shall ob- 
tain mercy. Blessed are the pure in heart : for they 
shall see God. Blessed are the peacemakers : for they 
shall be called the children of God. Blessed are they 
which are persecuted for righteousness' sake: for 
theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are ye, when 
men shall revile you, and persecute you, and shall say 



Prose 9 

all manner of evil against you falsely, for my sake. 
Rejoice, and be exceeding glad; for great is your re- 
ward in heaven: for so persecuted they the prophets 
which were before you. 

A Little Lecture for a Little Girl. 

MRS. JOHNSTONE. IN A LECTURE TO THE YOUNG LADIES 
OF OBERLIN COLLEGE. 

For the little girl six years old who is pretty when she is good, "But 
when she is bad she is horrid." 

Young people have a right to be homely. They may 
be born so. But no old person has a right to be ugly. 
He has had all his life in which to grow beautiful. 



A Child Can be Just. 

EUGENIE DE GUERIN, 1805-1848. 

Only emotional love is blind. We accept injustice from those we fear, 
and from children because we are ashamed to demand justice from little 
creatures, much to the harm of both. The judicial mind is to be trusted 
and not the emotional. 

Nothing pains me more than injustice, no matter 
who endures it, myself or another. It grieves me to 
see somebody excuse a little child who is unjust or in 
the wrong. The smallest untruth offends me. Is this 
a fault? My father loves me too dearly to criticise 
me or find any fault in me. To judge another fairly, 
the eye must not be too near nor too far off. It is a 
duty to one's self to try and make perfect what one 
loves. 

Virtue, Its Own Reward. 

ABRIDGED FROM ZENO, 490 B.C. 

Twenty-four centuries of human experience have endorsed these words 
of Zeno. They are immortal, and because they are immortal every child 
should know them. 

Virtue should be loved for its own sake. It needs 
no reward. It is all a man needs to make him happy. 



lo Prose 

Nothing which is contrary to virtue can be good. A 
wise man has no fear. He cares not for glory. He has 
no pride. 

It is a virtue to honour one's father and mother, to 
defend one's country, to assist a friend. 

Nothing is more true than that which is true. Noth- 
ing is more false than that which is false. Nothing 
is better than that which is good. Nothing is worse 
than that which is bad. 



The Crow. 

(Copyrighted by Houghton, Mifflin & Company.) 

JOHN BURROUGHS, 1837. IN "AN IDYL OF THE HONEY 

BEE." 

This selection finds a home here in fond memory of the little boys 
who "tolerated" a pet crow and fed him on the sly. He tried to drink 
our ink, steal our pencils, tear up the splinters in the floor, and carry 
off the lesson papers. He was every inch a tyrant but how quiet we 
would be in the presence of his antics, rather than have him put out of 
the schoolroom. 

I saw Spinoza, the cat, stalking across the fields not long ago, and the 
crows pitched at him and drove him out. A crow knows no higher law 
than himself. That's the reason why children are "trained." A child 
has reason and can learn the higher law. He is not allowed to be a 
crow. 

I HAVE seen no bird walk the ground with just the 
same air the crow does. It is not exactly pride ; there 
is no strut or swagger in it, though perhaps just a lit- 
tle condescension : it is the contented and self-possessed 
gait of a lord over his domains. All these acres are 
mine, he says, and all these crops ; men plough and sow 
for me, and I stay here or go there, and find life sweet 
and good wherever I am. 

The hawk looks awkward and out of place on the 
ground ; the game birds hurry and skulk, but the crow 
is at home and treads the earth as if there were none 
to molest or make him afraid. 



Prose 1 1 



The Country of Playthings. 

CARLO LORENZINI (C. COLLODI). ADAPTED FROM "THE 
ADVENTURES OF PINOCCHIO." 

The Land of the Unreal where there is no grasp of life, this is the 
Country of Playthings (Shadows). Laddie, beware of grasping present 
pleasures at the expense of permanent good. 

The Country of Playthings ! This country is not 
Hke any other in the world. It is the country of boys. 
The oldest is thirteen years old and the youngest not 
under eight. In the streets there is a noise, a running 
around, and a blowing of trumpets that makes your 
head ache. Everywhere groups of boys play at mar- 
bles, at shinny, and ball. Some ride on velocipedes and 
wooden horses. Some play hide and seek. They sing, 
jump over benches, walk on their hands with their 
feet in the air, try to kick over their heads, laugh, call, 
whistle. Some make a noise like a hen that has just 
laid an tgg. In fact, there is such a pandemonium that 
you have to put cotton in your ears. 

Remember Thy Creator. 

BIBLE. 

"A tow-headed boy! I looked up at the face of the old preacher 
with a new interest and friendliness. I followed my mother when she 
v/ent to speak to him, and when he did not see, I touched his coat. 

"He brought in the universe to that small church and filled the heart 
of the boy. 

"Ah, that tall lank preacher, who thought himself a failure!" — 
David Grayson, in "Adventures in Contentment." 

Remember now thy Creator in the days of thy 
youth, while the evil days come not, nor the years draw 
nigh, when thou shalt say, I have no pleasure in them ; 
while the sun, or the light, or the moon, or the stars, 
be not darkened, nor the clouds return after the rain : 
in the days when the keepers of the house shall trem- 
ble, and the strong men shall bow themselves, and 
the grinders cease because they are few, and those 
that look out of the windows be darkened, and the 
doors shall be shut in the streets, when the sound of 



12 Prose 

the grinding is low, and he shall rise up at the voice 
of the bird, and all the daughters of music shall be 
brought low. 

Tom Brown Goes to Rugby. 

THOMAS HUGHES, 1823-1896. FROM "TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL 
DAYS." 

Here is a "speech" for fathers to commit to memory to say to their 
little boys. 

Tom, my boy, remember that you are going, at your 
own request, to be chucked into this great school — like 
a young bear — with all your troubles before you — 
earlier, perhaps, than we should have sent you. If 
schools are what they were in my time you'll see a 
great many cruel things done, and hear a deal of bad 
talk. But never fear. Tell the truth ; keep a brave and 
kind heart; never say or listen to anything you 
wouldn't have your mother hear, and you'll never feel 
ashamed to come home. 

Under the Flapdoodle Trees. 

CHARLES KINGSLEY, 1819-1875- ABRIDGED FROM "WATER 
BABIES." 

This selection is an incisive thrust at the "arrant-knight" who lives 
forever in the Land of Playthings and never comes under any law. He 
does as he likes, always, and does not want to obey. He never learns 
to do by doing and consequently has no ability. If he is not nine years 
old he is younger or a little older. A topic for discussion in Normal 
School debates. 

The Doasyoulikes came away from the country of 
Hardwork because they wanted to play on the Jew's 
harp all day long. 

The Doasyoulikes were living in the land of the 
Ready-made, at the foot of the Happy-go-lucky Moun- 
tains, where flapdoodle grows wild; and if you want to 
know what that is you must ask Peter Simple. 

They lived very much such a life as those jolly old 
Greeks in Sicily, whom you may see painted on the 
ancient vases, and really there seemed to be great ex- 
cuse for them, for they had no need to work. 



Prose 13 

Instead of houses they lived in beautiful caves of 
tufa, and bathed in the warm springs three times a 
day; and, as for clothes, it was so warm there that 
the gentlemen walked about in little beside a cocked hat 
and a pair of straps, or some light summer tackle of 
that kind ; and the ladies all gathered gossamer in au- 
tumn (when they were not too lazy) to make their 
winter dresses. 

They were very fond of music, but it was too much 
trouble to learn the piano or the violin; and as for 
dancing, that would have been too great an exertion. 
So they sat on ant-hills all day long, and played on the 
J"ew's harp ; and, if the ants bit them, why they just got 
up and went to the next ant-hill, till they were bitten 
there likewise. 

And they sat under the flapdoodle-trees, and let the 
flapdoodle drop into their mouths ; and under the vines, 
and squeezed the grape-juice down their throats ; and, 
if any little pigs ran about ready roasted, crying, "Come 
and eat me," as was their fashion in that country, they 
waited till the pigs ran against their mouths, and then 
took a bite, and were content, just as so many oysters 
would have been. 

They needed no weapons, for no enemies ever came 
near their land ; and no tools, for everything was ready- 
made to their hand ; and the stern old fairy Necessity 
never came near them to hunt them up, and make 
them use their wits, or die. 

The Little Wooden Puppet Tells How He Became 
a Donkey. 

CARLO LORENZINT (C. COLLODI). ADAPTED FROM "THE 
ADVENTURES OF PINOCCHIO." 

For Betty, aged four, whom I saw last Sunday, curled up in her 
mother's lap and smiling while mother read the story of Pinocchio. 

Know, then, that at first I was a wooden puppet as 
I am to-day. Once I was on the point of becoming a 
boy, a real boy, just like other boys. But I listened 



14 Prose 

to the advice of a bad companion, and one morning I 
awoke and found myself changed into a donkey with 
long ears and a beautiful, swishing tail. What a shame 
I felt ! I was led into a square by a man who bought 
me and taught me to do tricks. One night as I was 
performing, I fell and hurt my leg so badly that I 
could hardly stand on it. Then my master, who did 
not know what to do with a lame donkey, sold me, and 
my new master planned to beat me by placing my skin 
over a drum. 

The Goose That Laid the Golden Egg. 

^SOP, 620 B.C. 

Sometimes the golden egg is nothing but an apple; and sometimes it 
is just a right to walk on the sidewalk without being pushed off. This 
selection finds a home here in honour of a little goose who, when asked 
for a half of her apple, gives the whole of it. And when she writes a 
composition she says: "If you are going to school and a big boy pushes 
you off from the sidewalk, you must not let on that you see him." 
That's the reason, Honey, why women don't vote. 

Once there was a man who had a goose that laid 
a golden ^gg for him every day. But the man was not 
satisfied with so slow an income, and thinking to seize 
the whole treasure at once, he killed the goose, and cut- 
ting her open, found her just like all other geese. 

Much wants more and loses all. 

The Whistle. 

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN, 1706-1790. 

"We should draw all the good we can from this world. In my 
opinion we might all draw more good from it than we do, and suffer 
less evils, if we would take care not to give too much for whistles." 

"The Whistle" made a great impression on me as a child, and I 
include it because it has never lost its place in my heart. 

When I was a child seven years old, my friends on 
a holiday filled my pocket with coppers. I went di- 
rectly to a shop where they sold toys for children; 
and, being charmed with the sound of a zvhistle that 
I met by the way in the hands of another boy, I volun- 
tarily offered and gave all my money for one. I then 



Prose 1 5 

came home, and went whistling all over the house, 
much pleased with my zvhistle, but disturbing all the 
family. My brothers and sisters and cousins, under- 
standing the bargain I had made, told me I had given 
four times as much for it as it was worth ; put me 
in mind what good things I might have bought with the 
rest of the money, and laughed at me so much for my 
folly, that I cried with vexation; and the reflection 
gave me more chagrin than the zvhistle gave me 
pleasure. 

This, however, was afterwards of use to me, the im- 
pression continuing on my mind, so that often, when I 
was tempted to buy some unnecessary thing, I said to 
myself. Don't give too much for the whistle: and I 
saved my money. 

As I grew up, went into the world, and observed 
the actions of men, I thought I met with many, very 
many, who gave too much for the zvhistle. 

When I saw one too ambitious to court favour, sac- 
rificing his time in attendance on levees, his repose, 
his liberty, his virtue, and perhaps his friends, to at- 
tain it, I have said to myself. This man gives too 
much for his zvhistle. 

When I saw another fond of popularity, constantly 
employing himself in political bustles, neglecting his 
own affairs and ruining them by that neglect, He pays, 
indeed, said I, too much for his zvhistle. 

If I knew a miser, who gave up any kind of a com- 
fortable living, all the pleasure of doing good to others, 
all the esteem of his fellow-citizens, and the joys of 
benevolent friendship, for the sake of accumulating 
wealth. Poor man, said I, you pay too much for your 
zvhistle. 

If I see one fond of appearance, or fine clothes, fine 
houses, fine furniture, fine equipages, all above his for- 
tune, for which he contracts debts, and ends his career 
in a prison, Alas! say I, he has paid dear, very dear, 
for his zvhistle. 



I 6 Prose 

In short, I conceive that great part of the miseries 
of mankind are brought upon them by the false esti- 
mates they have made of the value of things, and by 
their giving too much for their whistles. 



All Around a Bird's Nest. 

(Copyrighted by Charles Scribner's Sons.) 

ELIZABETH B. CUSTER, 1844.. FROM "THE BOY GENERAL." 

Why so much sentiment over birds and birds' nests? The bird 
stands as "an emblem of happiness" and family life. Blest is his dwell- 
ing place. — E. H. 

I HEARD, only a year or so since, of an incident that 
happened perhaps fifteen years ago. A representative 
of the press was sent for scientific purposes with our 
regiment during the summer campaign. He told me 
that General Custer, riding at the head of the column, 
seeing the nest of a meadow-lark, with birdlings in it, 
in the grass, guided his horse around it, and resumed 
the straight course again without saying a word or giv- 
ing a direction. The whole command of many hun- 
dred cavalrymen made the same detour, each detach- 
ment coming up to the place where the preceding 
horsemen had turned out and looking down into the 
nest to find the reason for the unusual departure from 
the straight line of march. 



Protect the Birds. 

FRANK M. CHAPMAN. FROM "THE ECONOMIC VALUE OF 
THE BIRD TO THE STATE." 

This selection is dedicated to the boy with the gun and the boy with 
the sling. There you go with your gun. Bang! Poor Robin stops sing- 
ing "Yith, Dearie; yith, yith, yith, Dearie, Dearie." Dearie is sitting 
on her nest peering into the window. And you have killed her mate. 
Dearie will have no supper to-night and the black spiders will crawl 
in to your room and bite you. In the morning we shall have no song 
from Robin. 

The bird is the property of the State. If a bird is 
proven to be injurious to the interests of the State, no 



Prose 17 

one would deny the State's right to destroy it. If, on 
the contrary, a bird is shown to be beneficial, then the 
State has an equal right to protect it. It is not only the 
right but the duty of the State to give its birds the 
treatment they deserve. 

The farms and forests of the State of New York 
yield products, every year, worth nearly three millions 
of dollars ; and there are millions of birds in the State 
to help save or destroy these crops and forests. 

It is the duty of the State to learn how the birds 
affect its products. If they are harmful, how are they 
to be destroyed? If they are valuable, how are they 
to be protected? 

What does the bird do for the State ? He eats harm- 
ful insects and their eggs, and young ones. He eats 
the seeds of noxious weeds. He devours field mice and 
other little mammals which injure crops. He acts as a 
scavenger. He rids the tree of its insects. The black- 
bird waddles over the grass picking up crawlers. The 
downy woodpecker removes the tent-caterpillar from 
the tree trunks. The chipping sparrow is a fly-catcher. 
He catches the moth in the air when it is flying about 
hunting for a place in the trees where it can lay its 
eggs. The robin gorges himself on caterpillars until, as 
one observer has said, his little red-front trails on the 
ground. 

There are five hundred species of insects that prey 
on the oak. If it were not for birds the oak tree could 
not exist. 

Birds are of value to the forest not only because 
they destroy its insect foes, but because they distribute 
the seeds. Acorns, beech-nuts, and chestnuts are 
dropped or hidden by birds and the seeds of pine trees 
are scattered and so the forests spring up. It can be 
clearly demonstrated that we should lose our forests 
if we should lose our birds. 

We should lose our crops if we should lose our 
birds. The owl and the hawk and the blackbird eat 



I 8 Prose 

field-mice, pine-mice, grubs, and rats, foes of the grain 
fields. 

Birds clean up the coasts and swamps. They de- 
stroy mosquitoes and vermin. The gull acts as scaven- 
ger of the coast, eating dead fish and garbage. The 
turkey buzzard and black vulture remove dead crea- 
tures from the swamps. 

What does the State do for the birds ? Does it give 
them legal protection? 

Nearly every child who finds a nest thinks that he 
has a right to the eggs. Sportsmen shoot the birds in 
pure wantonness. Milliners' agents collect them for 
fashion's demands. Boys attack them with air-guns 
and bean-shooters. Nearly two millions of birds are 
killed by cats every year in New England. The pot- 
hunter kills them for the market. 

What should the State do for the bird ? 

It should enforce laws for his protection. It should 
teach the children to know and love the bird and 
understand his value. 



The Donkey- Clock. 

(Copyrighted by Charles Scribner's Sons.) 

FRANK R. STOCKTON. ABRIDGED AND EDITED FROM 
"FANCIFUL TALES." 

"Save Thou me from presumptuous sins!" How often did that text 
ring out at morning exercises, from the lips of the Leader at Cook 
County Normal School, "twenty years ago." This selection is an in- 
cisive "speech" against self-conceit and in favour of modesty. We little 
girls who carry "the rose-clock" are so sure that the donkey in the town- 
clock kicks out the wrong time. It took many years for the public to 
find out that the author of this selection was a serious humourist. 

You must know that our donkey is a very compli- 
cated piece of mechanism. Not only must he kick out 
the hours, but five minutes before doing so he must 
turn his head around and look at the bell behind him ; 
and then when he has done kicking, he must put his 
head back into its former position. All this action re- 
quires a great many wheels and cogs and springs and 



Prose 19 

levers, and these cannot be made to move with ab- 
solute regularity. When it is cold, some of his works 
contract ; and when it is warm they expand ; and there 
are other reasons why he is very likely to lose or gain 
time. At noon, on every bright day, I set him right, 
being able to get the correct time from a sun-dial which 
stands in the court-yard. But his works — which I am 
sorry to say are not well made — are sure to get a great 
deal out of the way before I set him again. If there 
are several rainy or cloudy days together he goes very 
wrong indeed. Yes, truly he does, and I am sorry for 
it. But there is no way to help it except for me to 
make him all over again at my own expense, and that 
is something I cannot afford to do. The clock belongs 
to the town, and I am sure the citizens would not be 
willing to spend the money necessary for a new donkey- 
clock. So far as I know, every person but yourself 
is perfectly satisfied with this one. 

What! It is a pity that every clock in Rondaine 
should be striking wrong ! How do you know they are 
all wrong? You listen to them? And then you look 
at your rose-clock to see what time it really is ! Let me 
look at the rose-clock. I will step into the court-yard 
and compare it with the sun-dial. Ah ! It is ten min- 
utes too slow. Its works are like those of the donkey- 
clock, not adjusted in such a way as to be unaffected 
by heat or cold. Yes ! Ten minutes slow to-day. On 
some days it is probably a great deal too fast. Such 
a clock as this — which is a very ingenious and beautiful 
one — ought frequently to be compared with a sun-dial 
or other correct time-keeper, and set to the proper 
hour. You can do no one any good by listening to the 
different strikings of the clocks and then comparing 
them with the little rose-clock, especially when you are 
not sure that your rose-clock is right. But if you will 
bring your little clock to me and your key on any day 
when the sun is shining, I will set it to the time 
shadowed on the sun-dial. 



20 Prose 



The Lotus-Eaters. 

(Copyrighted by Charles Scribner's Sons.) 

HOMER, ODD to 1000 B.C. FROM "ODYSSEUS. THE HERO OF 
ITHACA," ADAPTED FROM THE ODYSSEY. 

"The Lotus-Eaters" is placed in this volume out of respect to a class 
of ten-year-old boys who read and re-read with me "Odysseus, the Hero 
of Ithaca," an adaptation from The Odyssey. 

"We all sat around the table and read it, father and mother and all 
of us," said a ten-year-old boy. 

Nine days and nine nights we were driven about 
on the sea by a violent storm, and on the tenth we 
reached the land of the Lotus-eaters. These men eat 
flowers that look like water-lilies, and they have no 
other food. We landed on the shore and my comrades 
took their evening meal close to the boats. 

When our hunger was satisfied, I sent out two of the 
best men to explore the country and find out what sort 
of people the Lotus-eaters were. I sent a herald with 
them, whom they might send back with the news. 

They soon found themselves among the Lotus-eaters, 
who were gentle and friendly, and gave them the lotus 
plant to eat. This food is pleasant to the taste but 
dangerous ; for anyone who eats of it loses all desire to 
return to his own home. He forgets his cares and trou- 
bles, but he forgets his friends also. 

As soon as my comrades had eaten of the lotus, they 
became attached to the Lotus-eaters, and desired to re- 
main with them. They wept bitterly when I com- 
manded them to return to the ships, and I was obliged 
to force them to go. I bound them down to the benches 
in the ships, and the whole company went on board in 
haste lest they should never think of their homes 
again. 

Each man bent to his oars, and the waves were soon 
white with the beating of the ships against them as 
we sailed with all haste in the direction of our own 
land. 



Prose 21 

The Perils of a Bird. 

(Copyrighted by Houghton, Mifflin & Company.) 

JOHN BURROUGHS, 1837. ABRIDGED FROM "BIRDS AND 
BEES." 

Among the worst enemies of our birds are the so- 
called ^'collectors," men who plunder nests and mur- 
der their owners in the name of science. Not the gen- 
uine ornithologist, for no one is more careful of squan- 
dering bird-life than he; but the sham ornithologist, 
the man whose vanity or affectation happens to take an 
ornithological turn. He is seized with an itching for a 
collection of eggs and birds, because it happens to be 
the fashion, or because it gives him the air of a man of 
science. Robbing nests and killing birds becomes a 
business with him. He goes about it systematically, 
and becomes an expert in slaying our songsters. 

But the collectors alone are not to blame for the di- 
minishing number of our wild birds. Quite a large 
share of the responsibility rests upon a different class 
of persons, namely, the milliners. False taste in dress 
is as destructive to our feathered friends as are false 
aims in science. 

It is said that the traffic in the skins of our brighter- 
plumaged birds, arising from their use by milliners, 
reaches to hundreds of thousands annually. I am told 
of one middleman who collected from the shooters in 
one district, in four months, seventy thousand skins. 
It is a barbarous taste that craves this kind of orna- 
mentation. Think of a woman or girl of real refine- 
ment appearing upon the street, her headgear adorned 
with the scalps of our songsters! 



22 Prose 



Turning the Grindstone. 

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN, 1706-1790. 

"Turning the Grindstone" is an old stand-by. Like a thousand other 
people, I learned it when a child. It was one of the most important 
bits of prose I ever learned. Beware of the flatterer! The number is 
legion of sugar-coated grindstones, and sugar-coated grinders with sugar- 
coated axes, and yet one would sooner be "done up" a hundred times 
than to let a fellow-creature go hungry because his axe is dull. A dull 
axe! Ah me! What a dull thing is a dull axe. And the oily grinder 
too often lives in a palace fit for a king. This selection is "sacred to the 
memory" of a Western publisher who "paid" me a small pittance for an 
invention that gave him a large fortune. 

When I was a little boy, I remember, one cold win- 
ter's morning, I was accosted by a smiling man with 
an axe on his shoulder. *'My pretty boy," said he, ''has 
your father a grindstone?" — "Yes, sir," said I. — "You 
are a fine little fellow," said he ; "will you let me grind 
my axe on it?" Pleased with the compliment of "fine 
little fellow," "O yes, sir," I answered. "It is down 
in the shop." — "And will you, my man," said he, pat- 
ting me on the head, "get me a little hot water ?" How 
could I refuse? I ran, and soon brought a kettle full. 
"How old are you ? and what's your name ?" continued 
he, without waiting for a reply ; "I am sure you are one 
of the finest lads that ever I have seen; will you just 
turn a few minutes for me ?" 

Tickled with the flattery, like a little fool, I went to 
work, and bitterly did I rue the day. It was a new axe, 
and I toiled and tugged till I was almost tired to death. 
The school-bell rang, and I could not get away; my 
hands were blistered, and the axe was not half ground. 
At length, however, it was sharpened, and the man 
turned to me with, "Now, you little rascal, you've 
played truant; scud to the school, or you'll rue it!" — 
"Alas!" thought I, "it was hard enough to turn a 
grindstone, this cold day; but now to be called a little 
rascal, is too much." 

It sank deep in my mind ; and often have I thought 
of it since. When I see a merchant over polite to his 



Prose 23 

customers, — begging them to take a little brandy, and 
throwing his goods on the counter, — thinks I, That 
man has an axe to grind. When I see a man flattering 
the people, making great professions of attachment to 
liberty, who is in private life a tyrant, methinks, Look 
out, good people! that fellow would set you turning 
grindstones. When I see a man hoisted into office by 
party spirit, without a single qualification to render him 
either respectable or useful — alas ! methinks, deluded 
people, you are doomed for a season to turn the grind- 
stone for a booby. 

Peter Pan Among the Birds. 

(Copyrighted by Charles Scribner's Sons.) 

J. M. BARRIE, i860. IN ''THE LITTLE WHITE BIRD." 

"Peter Pan" is the greatest Fairy Comedy of the Stage. This selec- 
tion is here out of respect to Walter, aged six, who believes in fairies 
and does not hesitate to tell the whole audience of it, for "the fairy 
would die if there were no one to believe." 

The birds on the island never got used to Peter Pan. 
His oddities tickled them every day, as if they were 
quite new, though it was really the birds that were 
new. They came out of the eggs daily, and laughed 
at him at once ; then off they flew soon to be humans, 
and other birds came out of other eggs, and so it 
went on forever. The crafty mother-birds, when they 
tired of sitting on their eggs, used to get the young 
ones to break their shells a day before the right time 
by whispering to them that now was their chance to 
see Peter washing or drinking or eating. Thousands 
gathered round him daily to watch him do these things, 
just as you watch the peacocks, and they screamed with 
delight when he lifted the crusts they flung him with 
his hands instead of in the usual way with the mouth. 
All his food was brought to him from the gardens, 
at Solomon's orders, by the birds. He would not eat 
worms or insects (which they thought very silly of 
him), so they brought him bread in their beaks. Thus, 



24 Prose 

when you cry out, "Greedy ! Greedy !" to the bird that 
flies away with the big crust, you know now that you 
ought not to do this, for he is very Hkely taking it to 
Peter Pan. 

Peter wore no nightgown now. You see, the birds 
were always begging him for bits of it to hne their 
nests with, and, being very good-natured, he could not 
refuse, so by Solomon's advice he had hidden what was 
left of it. But, though he was now quite unclad, you 
must not think that he was cold or unhappy. He was 
usually very happy and gay, and the reason was that 
Solomon had kept his promise and taught him many 
of the bird ways. To be easily pleased, for instance, 
and always to be really doing something, and think that 
whatever he was doing was a thing of vast importance. 
Peter became very clever at helping the birds to build 
their nests; soon he could build better than a wood- 
pigeon and nearly as well as a blackbird, though never 
did he satisfy the finches, and he made nice little water- 
troughs near the nests and dug up worms for the 
young ones with his fingers. He also became very 
learned in bird-lore, and knew an east-wind from a 
west-wind by its smell, and he could see the grass 
growing and hear the insects walking about inside the 
tree-trunks. But the best thing Solomon had done 
was to teach him to have a glad heart. All birds have 
glad hearts unless you rob their nests, and so as they 
were the only kind of heart Solomon knew about, it 
was easy to him to teach Peter how to have one. 
Peter's heart was so glad that he felt he must sing all 
day long, just as the birds sing for joy, but, being partly 
human, he needed an instrument, so he made a pipe of 
reeds, and he used to sit by the shore of the island of 
an evening, practising the sough of the wind and the 
ripple of the water and catching handfuls of the shine 
of the moon, and he put them all in his pipe and played 
them so beautifully that even the birds were deceived, 
and they would say to each other, "Was that a fish 



Prose 25 

leaping in the water or was it Peter playing leaping 
fish on his pipe ?" 

Virginius, as Tribune, Refuses the Appeal of 
Appius Claudius. 

ABRIDGED FROM LIVY, 59 B.C.-17 A.D. 

A healthy-minded boy should feel hearty contempt for the coward, and 
even more hearty indignation for the boy who bullies girls or small boys, 
or tortures animals. — Theodore Roosevelt. 

I AFFIRM, O Romans, that Appius Claudius is the 
only man not entitled to a participation in the laws, nor 
tp the common privileges of civil or human society. The 
tribunal over which, as perpetual Decemvir, he pre- 
sided, was made the fortress of all villainies. A de- 
spiser of gods and men, he vented his fury on the 
properties and persons of citizens, threatening all with 
his rods and axes. Executioners, not Lictors, were his 
attendants. 

And Appius Claudius now appeals! You hear his 
words. ''I appeal !" This man, who, so recently, as 
Decemvir, would have consigned a free-born maiden to 
slavery, utters that sacred expression, that safeguard 
of Roman liberty, — 'T appeal !" Well may ye stand 
awe-struck and silent, O my countrymen ! Ye see, at 
length, that there are gods who overlook human af- 
fairs; that there is such a thing as retribution! Ye 
see that punishment must sooner or later overtake all 
tyranny and injustice. The man who abolished the 
right of appeal now appeals ! The man who trampled on 
the rights of the People now implores the protection of 
the People ! And, finally, the man who used to call the 
prison the fitting domicile of the Roman commons shall 
now find that it was built for him also. Wherefore, 
Appius Claudius, though thou shouldst appeal again and 
again, to me, the Tribune of the People, I will as often 
refer thee to a Judge, on the charge of having sen- 
tenced a free person to slavery. And since thou wilt 
not go before a Judge, well knowing that justice will 



26 Prose 

condemn thee to death, I hereby order thee to be taken 
hence to prison, as one condemned. 

The Street Arab of Paris. 

VICTOR HUGO, 1802-1855. FROM "LES MISERABLES." 

Boys from good families often despise the "Street Arab" and call him 
a "Mick" because he swears and is dirty and uses slang; and thus early 
the war begins between the rich and the poor. Wee Hansel, I saw you 
drive little Rachel into the house and I asked you why you did it. You 
replied: "Because she is a foreigner." This selection is for the more 
fortunate child, to set him thinking. 

Paris has a child and the forest has a bird ; the bird 
is called the sparrow ; the child is called the gamin. The 
gamin is full of joy. He has food to eat, but not every 
day. He goes to the show every evening if he sees 
fit. He has no shirt to his back, no shoes to his feet, 
no roof over his head ; he is like the flies in the air, who 
have none of these things. He is from seven to thir- 
teen years of age, lives in troops, ranges the streets, 
sleeps in the open air, wears an old pair of his father's 
pantaloons down about his heels, an old hat of some 
other father, which covers his ears, and a single yellow 
suspender. He runs about, is always on the watch, and 
on the search. 

He kills time, colors pipes, swears like an imp, knows 
thieves and robbers, sings low songs. But he has noth- 
ing bad in his heart. This is because he has a pearl in 
his soul, — Innocence. 

So long as man is a child, God wills that he be in- 
nocent. 

The Country Mouse and the City Mouse. 

HORACE, 65-8 B.C. "THE SABINE FARM." 

When I come to the city, my head is full of undigested sleep. — ^John 
Burroughs. 

I would rather live in the country because I can see the sky. — 
Benny, aged thirteen. 

Life on a farm is more than profit and loss. — David Grayson. 

A MOUSE from the city went on a visit to a friend in 
the country. 



Prose 27 

The country Mouse brought out the best he had, and 
placed it before his guest. 

There was plenty of oatmeal and peas, a good scrap 
of bacon, and a bit of cheese. While the guest was 
dining, the country Mouse, out of politeness, would 
eat none of these dainties, for fear there should not be 
enough, but nibbled a piece of straw to keep him com- 
pany. 

When the dinner was over, the city Mouse said : 

*'My friend, I thank you for your courtesy, but I 
must have a plain talk with you. I do not see how you 
can bear to live this poor life in this little hole. Why 
not come with me to the city, where you will have all 
sorts of good things to eat, and a gay time? You are 
really wasting your life in this quiet place. Come with 
me, and I will show you what good fare is." 

After being urged a long time, the country Mouse 
at last agreed to go to the city. So they started off 
together, and about midnight came to a great house, 
where the city Mouse lived. In the dining-room was 
ivpread a rich feast; and the city Mouse, with many 
airs and graces, ran about the table, and, picking out 
the nicest bits, waited upon his country friend, who, 
amazed at the good things, ate to his heart's content. 
All at once the doors of the dining-room were flung 
open, and in came a crowd of people, laughing and 
talking, and followed by a big dog, who barked loudly, 
and ran a|pout the room. The Mice rushed for the 
hole, to escape, and the little field Mouse almost died 
of fright. As soon as he was able to speak, he said: 

**Well ! if this is city life, I have seen enough of 
it. Stay in this fine place if you like. I shall be only 
too glad to get home to my quiet hole, and my plain 
oatmeal and peas." 



28 ProSfe 



Nobility of Labor. 

REV. ORVILLE DEWEY, 1 794-1882. 

I paint the stone-digger because he is good to look at. — Clarence 
Blodgett. 

Ashamed to toil, art thou ? Ashamed of thy dingy 
work-shop and dusty labour-field; of thy hard hand, 
scarred with service more honourable than that of war ; 
of thy soiled and weather-stained garments, on which 
Mother Nature has embroidered, midst sun and rain, 
midst fire and steam, her own heraldic honours? 
Ashamed of these tokens and titles, and envious of the 
flaunting robes of imbecile idleness and vanity. It is 
treason to Nature, — it is impiety to Heaven, — it is 
breaking Heaven's great ordinance. Toil, I repeat — 
toil, either of the brain, of the heart, or of the hand — 
is the only true manhood, the only true nobility! 

Cleansing the Fountain. 

EUGENIE DE GUERIN, 1805-1848. 

I hope that "Cleansing the Fountain" will cheer the heart of a boy 
on a farm who every six months helps to clean the well. When the 
hired man goes down into the well, what a revelation he sends up, in the 
old oaken bucket. The mud! All the dead leaves, twigs, feathers, vines, 
and "stuff" that have blown in for six months. The things that live in 
the well! Frogs, toads, lizards, ferns, plus mosquitoes' eggs. And the 
silt that the spring has washed in! Perhaps the boy must carry water 
from a far-away well for the table. Who knows how many knives, 
spoons, and tempers are lost in wells! Who knows how many poems 
grow out of them, and how much patience and devotion, when the water 
clears up again! A clean well is a perpetual temperance lecture. 

This morning I saw a beautiful sky, a budding chest- 
nut tree, and I heard the little birds singing. I listened 
to them as I sat under a great oak, near a fountain, 
whose basin was being cleaned out. The pretty songs 
and the washing of the basin brought me different 
trains of thought. The birds delighted me. But when 
I saw the escape of the muddy water which had been 
so clear a short time before, I could but regret that it 
had been troubled. And I pictured to myself one's 



Prose 29 

soul when something stirs it up. For even the most 
beautiful loses its charm when you stir the bottom, 
there being a little mud at the bottom of every human 
soul. 

My Brother's Schoolmistress. 

EDMONDO DE AMICIS, 1846. IN "CUORE." 

(Copyrighted by T. Y. Crowell & Company.) 

This selection finds a place here in honour of a dear mother who 
teaches her boys to remember with gratitude their former teachers. 

V How much patience is necessary with those boys of 
the lower first, all toothless, like old men, who cannot 
pronounce r's and s's ; and one coughs and another 
has the nosebleed, and another loses his shoes under 
the bench, and another bellows because he has pricked 
himself with his pen, and another one cries because he 
has bought copy-book No. 2, instead of No. i. Fifty 
in a class, who know nothing, with those flabby little 
hands, and all of them must be taught to write; they 
carry in their pockets bits of candy, buttons, corks, 
pounded brick, — all sorts of little things, and the 
teacher has to search them ; but they conceal these ob- 
jects even in their shoes. And they are not attentive. 
A fly enters through the window, and throws them all 
into confusion. And in summer they bring grass into 
school, and horn-bugs, which fly around in circles, or 
fall into the inkstand, and then streak the copy-book 
all over with ink. The schoolmistress has to play 
mother to all of them, to help them dress themselves, 
bandage up their pricked fingers, pick up their caps 
when they drop them, watch to see that they do not ex- 
change coats, and that they do not indulge in cat-calls 
and shrieks. Poor schoolmistress! And then the 
mothers come to complain : "How comes it that my boy 
has lost his pen ? How does it happen that mine learns 
nothing? Why is not my boy mentioned honourably, 
when he knows so much? Why don't you have that 



30 Prose 

nail which tore my Pietro's trousers, taken out of the 
bench?" And at the end of the year when the Httle 
boys are with the masters, they are ahnost ashamed of 
having been with a woman teacher. 

The Fourth of July. 

DANIEL WEBSTER, 1782-1852. 

This magnificent and dignified oration cannot but remind us that 
oratory among juveniles has too long been displaced by the cannon-fire- 
cracken 

This is that day of the year which announced to 
mankind the great fact of American Independence! 
This fresh and brilliant morning blesses our vision 
with another beholding of the birth-day of our nation ; 
and we see that nation, of recent origin, now among 
the most considerable and powerful, and spreading 
over the continent from sea to sea. 

" Westward the course of empire takes its way ; 
The four first acts already past, 
A fiftli shall close the drama with the day, — 
Time's noblest offspring is the last." 

On the Fourth of July, 1776, the representatives of 
the United States of America, in Congress assembled, 
declared that these United Colonies are, and of right 
ought to be, free and independent States. This declara- 
tion, made by most patriotic and resolute men, trusting 
in the justice of their cause, and the protection of 
Heaven, — and yet made not without deep solicitude 
and anxiety, — has now stood for seventy-five years, and 
still stands. It was sealed in blood. It has met dan- 
gers, and overcome them; it has had enemies, and con- 
quered them ; it has had detractors, and abashed them 
all; it has had doubting friends, but it has cleared all 
doubts away ; and now, to-day raising its august form 
higher than the clouds, twenty millions of people con- 
template it with hallowed love, and the world beholds 



Prose 3 i 

it, and the consequences which have followed from it, 
with profound admiration. 

This anniversary animates, and gladdens, and unites, 
all American hearts. On other days of the year we 
may be party men, indulging in controversies more or 
less important to the public good; we may have likes 
and dislikes, and we may maintain our political differ- 
ences; often with warm, and sometimes with angry 
feelings. But to-day we are Americans all; and all 
nothing but Americans. 



PART II. 

Blessings on Thee, Barefoot Boy! 



PART II 



A Lincoln Story. 

(Copyrighted by the North American Review.) 

ULYSSES S. GRANT. 

V Abraham Lincoln told this story to General Grant, who intended it 
for his own "Memoirs." But instead of disposing of it in that way 
he gave it to Allen Thorndike Rice to publish in the "Reminiscences of 
Abraham Lincoln." When Mr. Rice died he left it to General Lloyd 
Bryce and now it is the property of the North American Revieiv. It 
has taken me two-hundred-forty hours to trace it to its legal owner and 
secure the right to use it. Once I found a particularly pretty plume; 
B. S. snatched it and stuck it in his cap and he wears it. B. S., keep 
off this land. It is private property. Don't steal a woman's feather for 
a man's cap. 

This Lincoln story is intended for Budge and Edward and John, who 
always try again; and when the handle comes off from their pitchers 
they make stronger ones the next time. 

"General, do you know what the Dutch Gap Canal 
reminds me of? Out in Springfield, Illinois, there was 
a blacksmith, who one day, when he did not have much 
to do, took a piece of soft iron that had been in his 
shop for some time, and for which he had no special 
use, and starting up his fire, began to heat it. When 
he got it hot he carried it to the anvil and began to 
hammer it, thinking he would weld it into an agricul- 
tural tool. He pounded away for a time until he got 
it fashioned into some shape, when he discovered that 
the iron would not hold out to complete the implement 
he had in mind. He then put it back into the forge, 
heated it up again, and recommenced pounding it, with 
a notion that he would make a hammer; but after a 
time he came to the conclusion that there was more 
iron in it than was needed for a hammer. Again he 
heated it, and thought he would make an axe. After 
hammering and welding it into shape, knocking the 

35 



36 Prose 

iron off in flakes, he concluded that there was not 
enough iron to make an axe that would be of any use. 
He was now getting tired and a little disgusted at the 
result of his various efforts. So he filled his forge full 
of coal and after placing the iron in the centre of 
the heap, took the bellows and worked up a tremendous 
blast, bringing the iron to a white heat. Then with 
his tongs he lifted it from the bed of coals, and thrust- 
ing it into a tub of water near by, exclaimed, ''Well, 
if I can't make anything else of you. I can make A 
First-Class Fizzle." 

Protect the Trees. 

BRISTOW ADAMS. 

"Protect the Trees" was prepared especially for this book, in the office 
of the United States Department of Agriculture, Forest Service, at 
Washington, by Mr. Bristow Adams and Chief Findley Burns, \yho 
"never attempted the subject before." Perhaps there are boys and girls 
in this country who do not know that the United States has a Forest 
Service trying to protect the rights of the trees. But any little boy 
■who learns this "speech" will try to find out all about the Forest 
Service and why it is necessary as well as patriotic for a nation to 
care for the forests and streams. 

My friends, let me tell you the story of a Prince 
who was a spendthrift and wasted his heritage. The 
King, his father, banished the youth from the royal 
palace, cast him out utterly, and forbade him the use 
of the crops of the field, the wealth of the mines, and 
the products of the sea and of the streams that flowed 
down to it. Yet the King did not think to bar the use 
of the forest, and was surprised one day when he rode 
beyond the palace grounds and found a stately man- 
sion, beamed with the massive oak and panelled in 
fragrant cedar. That night a feast was spread there 
for the King. Tables were piled high with tree fruits, 
and lighted by the oil of tropic nuts. Musicians played 
soft-sounding wooden instruments, — the clarinet, and 
oboe, and bassoon. And for his skill in making this 
answer to the angry King's decree, the Prince was 
received back into his father's house. Whereat he 



Prose 37 

mended his ways, took upon himself the grateful task 
of caring for the forests, and lived long to advocate the 
mighty use of trees, v^hich the King had forgotten to 
interdict. 

But since then there was a time when the lesson that 
the Prince learned was forgotten. The people were 
profligate and wasted Nature's bounty of the forests. 

When the Judean hills were forest-clad, when the 
cedars of Lebanon grew to be builded into Solomon's 
Temple, Palestine was in the height of its glory. To- 
day it is a desert place, bearing the stamp of poverty 
ai;id despair. For the forests of a country, and the 
care which that country bestows upon them, measure 
that country's progressiveness. The land that was 
ancient Palestine is under the dominion of Turkey ; and 
Turkey, like China, has no care for its trees. 

The forests must be saved if we are to have wood 
for home-building; they must be saved if our rivers 
are to be a source of help and not of harm. Without 
the forest soil to store up the rain, the rivers range 
from turbid floods to dry channels. When they flow as 
torrents they wash good soil from fertile hills, and 
with it choke up commercial waterways. If the nation 
is to prosper the great resources of the forests must not 
be wasted, but must be used wisely and made to renew 
themselves year after year, to promote the comfort and 
wealth of the people. The generations that destroy 
the forest will be false to a sacred trust, and will have 
robbed of their heritage the generations to come. 

Then let us all unite in a campaign to save the trees, 
— to plant trees, and to care for them. Here is a 
crusade, worthy of our highest efforts, in which all may 
join in a common cause — the protection of our forests, 
that they may maintain their usefulness forever. 



38 Prose 

What is Property? 

FROM THE FRENCH OF ALPHONSE KARR. 

"I discovered the old professor, moving slowly along the margin of my 
field with his tin botany box. So he gathered his crops; and fences 
did not keep him out nor did titles disturb him. It gave me a peculiar 
pleasure to have him on my land, to know that I was, if unconsciously, 
raising other crops than I knew. 

"Do not apologize, friend, when you come into my field. You do not 
interrupt me. What you come for is of more importance at this 
moment than corn." — David Grayson, in "Adventures in Contentment." 

Yonder stands an old tree which I call mine. Other 
generations before me have dwelt under its shade, and 
called it theirs; and other generations after me will do 
the same. And yet I call the tree mine. A bird has 
built a nest on one of its highest branches, but I can- 
not reach it, and yet I call the tree mine. 

Mine ! There is scarcely anything which I call mine 
which will not last much longer in this world than I 
shall: there is not a single button of my jacket that is 
not destined to survive me many years. 

What a strange thing is this property of which men 
are so envious ! When I had nothing of my own, I had 
forests and meadows, and the sea, and the sky with all 
its stars ! 

I remember an old wood near to the house in which 
I was born. What days have I passed under its thick 
shade, in its green alleys! What violets have I gath- 
ered in it in the month of April, and what lilies of 
the valley in the month of May ! What strawberries, 
blackberries, and nuts, I have eaten in it! What but- 
terflies I have chased there! What nests I have dis- 
covered! What sweet perfumes have I inhaled! 
What verses have I there made! How often have I 
gone thither at the close of day, to see the glorious sun 
set, colouring with red and gold the white trunks of the 
birch-trees around me ! 

This wood was not mine; it belonged to an old bed- 
ridden miser, who had, perhaps, never been in it in his 
life — and yet it belonged to him. 



Prose 39 

Hunting in Utopia. 

SIR THOMAS MORE, 1478-1535. ABRIDGED FROM "UTOPIA." 

Not even genuine piety can make the robin-killer quite respectable. . . . 
Song-birds for food! Compared with this, making kindlings of pianos 
and violins would be pious economy. — John Muir. 

Among those foolish pursuers of pleasure the peo- 
ple of Utopia reckon all that delight in hunting, or 
gaming, of whose madness they have only heard, for 
they have no such things among them. But they have 
asked us : What sort of pleasure is it that men can find 
in, throwing the dice? And what pleasure can one 
find in hearing the barking and howling of dogs? 

Nor can they comprehend the pleasure of seeing 
dogs run after a hare, more than seeing one dog run 
after another. 

But if the pleasure lies in seeing the hare killed and 
torn by the dogs, this ought rather to stir pity, that a 
weak, harmless, and fearful hare should be devoured 
by strong, fierce, and cruel dogs. Therefore all this 
business of hunting is, among the Utopians, turned 
over to their butchers, and the butchers are all slaves, 
and they look on hunting as one of the basest parts of 
a butcher's work, for they account it both more profit- 
able and more decent to kill those beasts that are more 
useful to mankind, whereas the killing and tearing of 
so small and miserable an animal can only attract the 
huntsman with a false show of pleasure, from which 
he can reap but small advantage. They look on the 
desire of the bloodshed, even of beasts, as a mark 
of a mind that is corrupted with cruelty, or that at 
least, by too frequent returns of so brutal a pleasure, 
must degenerate into it. 



40 Prose 



The Folly of Pride. 

REV. SYDNEY SMITH, 1768-1845. 
We are looking for the vital. — John Burroughs. 

Take some quiet, sober moment of life, and add to- 
gether the two ideas of pride and of man ; behold him, 
a creature a span high, stalking through infinite 
space, in all the grandeur of littleness. Perched on a 
little speck of the universe, every wind of heaven 
strikes into his blood the coldness of death; his soul 
fleets from his body, like melody from the string; day 
and night, as dust on the wheel, he is rolled along 
the heavens, through a labyrinth of worlds, and all the 
systems and creations of God are flaming above and be- 
neath. 

Is this a creature to revel in his greatness? Is this 
a creature to make to himself a crown of glory; to 
deny his own flesh and blood ; and to mock at his fel- 
low, sprung from that dust to which they both will 
soon return? Does the proud man not err? Does he 
not suffer ? Does he not die ? When he reasons is he 
never stopped by difficulties? When he acts, is he 
never tempted by pleasures ? When he lives, is he free 
from pain? When he dies, can he escape from the 
common grave? Pride is not the heritage of man; 
humility should dwell with frailty, and atone for ig- 
norance, error, and imperfection. 

The Little Rose-Clock. 

(Copyrighted by Charles Scribner's Sons.) 

FRANK R. STOCKTON. FROM "FANCIFUL TALES." 

When it came to the test, the little girl did not want her pretty rose- 
clock set right any more than the superintendent of the donkey-clock 
wanted his donkey set right. It is so easy to excuse what is dear 
to us. 

To think of it ! That you should sometimes be too 
fast and sometimes too slow ! And worse than that, to 



Prose 41 

think that some of the other clocks have been right, and 
YOU have been wrong! But I do not feel like alter- 
ing you to-day. If you go fast sometimes, and slow 
SOMETIMES, you must be right sometimes. 

The Love of Home. 

DANIEL WEBSTER, 1782-1852. 

Reynal is always late to school because he must go home every night. 
And he must go home because he wants to see his mother. He has a 
home in the city near the school, but his mother prefers the country 
home. And this goes to show that it isn't the house that makes 
the home. If his mother lived in a dug-out, Reynal would want to 
go home just the same. This "recitation" is placed here in honour of 
Reynal; and also in honour of a poor girl who drudges in the city and 
whose home is wherever her trunk is; and that is generally in the 
smallest kind of a room, which she keeps so clean and so disposed and 
so cheerful that you would believe it a sumptuous little reception room. 
A home is nothing but a box, at the best, or a place where you keep your 
happiness, your independence, and your self-respect. 

It is only shallow-minded pretenders who either 
make distinguished origin a matter of personal merit, 
or obscure origin a matter of personal reproach. Taunt 
and scoffing at the humble condition of early life affect 
nobody in America but those who are foolish enough 
to indulge in them, and they are generally sufficiently 
punished by public rebuke. A man who is not ashamed 
of himself need not be ashamed of his early condi- 
tion. 

It did not happen to me to be born in a log cabin; 
but my elder brothers and sisters were born in a log 
cabin, raised among the snow-drifts of New Hamp- 
shire, at a period so early, that when the smoke first 
rose from its rude chimney, and curled over the frozen 
hills, there was no similar evidence of a white man's 
habitation between it and the settlements on the rivers 
of Canada. 

Its remains still exist; I make it an annual visit. 
I carry my children to it, to teach them the hardships 
endured by the generations which have gone before 
them. I love to dwell on the tender recollections, the 
kindred ties, the early affections, and the touching nar- 



42 Prose 

ratives and incidents, which mingle with all I know of 
this primitive family abode. 

I weep to think that none of those who inhabited 
it are now among the living; and if ever I am ashamed 
of it, or if ever I fail in affectionate veneration for 
him who reared it, and defended it against savage vio- 
lence and destruction, cherished all the domestic vir- 
tues beneath its roof, and, through the fire and blood 
of a seven years' revolutionary war, shrank from no 
danger, no toil, no sacrifice, to serve his country, and 
to raise his children to a condition better than his 
own, may my name and the name of my posterity be 
blotted forever from the memory of mankind! 

Cassio on Intemperance. 

SHAKESPEARE, 1564-1616. 

Reputation, reputation, reputation! Oh, I have 
lost my reputation! I have lost the immortal part of 
myself, and what remains is bestial. My reputation! 
lago, my reputation! 

I will sue to be despised. Drunk! and squabble! 
swagger! swear! and discourse fustian with one's 
own shadow ! Oh, thou invisible spirit of wine ! if 
thou hast no name to be known by, let us call thee 
devil. 

I remember a mass of things, but nothing distinctly ; 
a quarrel, but nothing wherefore. Oh, that men should 
put an enemy into their mouths to steal away their 
brains: that we should, with joy, gaiety, revel, and ap- 
plause, transform ourselves into beasts ! 

It has pleased the devil, Drunkenness, to give place 
to the devil. Wrath ;. one imperfection shows me an- 
other, to make me frankly despise myself. 

If I ask him for my place again, he will tell me I am 
a drunkard! Had I as many months as Hydra, such 
an answer would stop them all. To be now a sensi- 
ble man, by and by a fool, and presently a beast! 



Prose 43 

Every inordinate cup is unblessed, and the ingredient 
is a devil. 

Earnestness. 

LORD LYTTON, 1803-1873. 

Earnestness! What a resource it is even in a child! Here let me 
pay tribute with reverent affection to the memory of a little girl whose 
name deserves to stand, a monument of earnestness, "towering o'er 
the wrecks of time." Just a tiny girl, Annie Corrigan, who could 
control the work of a school of sixty children, in the teacher's absence. 
Every child felt the power of her character and loved to obey her. 
"Wouldn't it be wonderful," said Annie, "if some one should get to 
the North Pole, and then keep on going North, and find another 
world like this, but more beautiful!" The last time we saw Annie, she 
was asleep in her white "first-communion" robes, her gentle hands 
crossed over her pulseless heart. Who can doubt that she had found 
t'he more beautiful world? 

If I were asked what attribute most commanded 
fortune, I should say "earnestness." The earnest man 
wins a way for himself and earnestness and truth go 
together. Never affect to be other than you are — 
either richer or wiser. Never be ashamed to say, "I 
do not know." Men will then believe you when you 
say, "I do know." 

Never be ashamed to say, whether as applied to time 
or money, "I cannot afford it;" — 'T cannot afford to 
waste an hour in the idleness to which you invite me, — 
I cannot afford the guinea you ask me to throw away." 
Once establish yourself and your mode of life as what 
they really are, and your foot is on solid ground, 
whether for the gradual step onward, or for the sud- 
den spring over a precipice. 

From these maxims let me deduce another, — learn 
to say "No" with decision ; "Yes" with caution ; — "No" 
with decision whenever it resists temptation; "Yes" 
with caution whenever it implies a promise. A promise 
once given is a bond inviolable. A man is already of 
consequence in the world when it is known that we 
can implicitly rely upon him. I have frequently seen in 
life a person preferred to a long list of applicants, for 
some important charge which lifts him at once into sta- 
tion and fortune, merely because he has this reputa- 



44 



Prose 



tion, that when he says he knows a thing, he knows 
it, and when he says he will do a thing, he will do it. 

Saying Too Much. 

L. C. JUDSON. 

It is a fact worthy of notice and imitation, that 
Washington, Franklin, and others, whose memories we 
delight to perpetuate, were remarkably laconic in their 
speeches, keeping close to the question under consid- 
eration; aiming to inform rather than dazzle; more 
anxious to despatch business, than to outshine one an- 
other in the brilliancy of their eloquence. 

The public speaker who, without flourish or parade, 
comes to the subject-matter at once; who presents in 
a clear, concise, and forcible manner the strong points 
of his case; whose every sentence strikes home; who 
says just all that is necessary, and there stops, — is al- 
ways listened to with a marked attention, unknown to 
those who indulge in flights of oratory, plucking flow- 
ers from the regions of fancy, drawing more largely 
upon the imagination than upon sound logic and plain 
common sense. In the private walks of life, there are 
thousands who say too much. The liar and the pro- 
fane swearer are constantly saying too much. The 
whisperer of scandal, the mysterious guesser, the fiery 
and passionate, the jealous and suspicious, the 
malicious and revengeful, the curious and reckless are 
usually saying quite too much, and from influences 
always wrong — often criminal. There are others 
who, in perfect innocence, often say too much. 
The young man, whose stock of knowledge is small, 
by talking when he should listen, may miss of 
intelligence that might be of great use to him; and 
the man of maturer years who engrosses all the con- 
versation in company, to show his learning and su- 
periority, often disgusts his companions by saying too 
much. 



Prose 45 

In mixed company, in private company, in public 
meetings, men and women very readily say too much. 
If we know a fault of our neighbour, and, instead of 
going to him and kindly endeavouring to reclaim him, 
we proclaim it to others, we violate the duty we owe 
him, by saying too much. Let us all, then, strive to 
arrest this evil, by commencing at the fountain-head, 
and, first of all, correct the heart, and keep it with all 
diligence; and remembering that, for every idle word, 
we are accountable to God. 

Ulysses at the Home of Circe. 

(Copyrighted by Charles Scribner's Sons.) 

HOMER, 900-1000 B.C. FROM "ODYSSEUS, THE HERO OF 
ITHACA." ADAPTED FROM THE ODYSSEY. 

Every child loves the story of Ulysses (Odysseus). This selection 
finds a place here because children who read it once, read it many 
times. When I read it with my pupils we always supplement it with 
Edith Thomas's masterpiece: 

Traveller, pluck a stem of moly, 

If thou touch at Circe's isle, — 

Hermes' moly, growing solely 

To undo enchanter's wile, — 

Some do think its name should be 

Shield-Heart, White Integrity. 
Circe was the daughter of the Sun, the witch who gave the cup of 
enchantment to the companions of Ulysses to turn them into swine. 
Circe is the stimulating, the alcoholic power in the sun's ray that gives 
the apple its aroma, the grape its intoxicating germ. The site of the 
palace and grove of the enchantress are still pointed out on Monte 
Circeo, on the coast of Italy, between Rome and Naples. Moly, a com- 
mon little bulb of the Lily Family (growing in America as well as in 
Europe), is a relish much used by Italian peasants. 

We continued our course until we reached an island, 
where lived Circe, a daughter of the Sun and Ocean. 
We landed silently, and gave two days and nights to 
rest, for we were worn out with toil and grief. On 
the third day I climbed to the top of a high hill and 
looked over the island. Down below I saw a mar- 
ble palace, surrounded by a thick forest. There was 
smoke rising from the grounds, so I resolved to re- 
turn to my men and send out some of them to look 
about and explore. 

That night we slept on the shore and in the morn- 



46 Prose 

ing I told them that I had seen a palace standing in a 
thick wood and that I wanted to send several men there 
to try to get food. When my companions thought 
of all their comrades who had been slain, they wept 
aloud. But their tears were useless. I divided them 
into two equal bands, and we cast lots to see which 
should make the adventure. 

The lot fell to Eurylochus and his band of men. 
They started forth and soon came to a beautiful val- 
ley, in which was the splendid house of Circe, which 
was built of well-hewn stone. There were beasts of 
prey, lions and wolves, around it. The animals were 
tame ; they wagged their tails and fawned like dogs, 
but the men were afraid of them. 

Circe was weaving in the palace and singing a beau- 
tiful song. She had bright, sunny hair and a sweet 
voice. The men heard her as she went back and forth 
weaving, and they called aloud. She came to the door 
and threw it wide open and bade them enter. 

Eurylochus alone did not go in, for he feared that 
some evil would come of it. The others followed her, 
and Circe seated them on thrones and gave them food 
and wine, but in the wine she had secretly infused 
a magic juice which made them forget home and 
friends and all desire to see their native land. 

When they had eaten and drunk to their hearts' con- 
tent, she waved her wand over them, and at once the 
poor wretches were changed into grunting pigs, which 
she shut up in sties. Then she threw acorns and 
other food fit for swine before them. Although thus 
transformed and covered with bristles, they still re- 
tained the human mind. 

Eurylochus waited outside a long time for his com- 
panions. But as they did not come he hastened back to 
the ship to tell the news. Thereupon I quickly hung 
my sword over my shoulder and, taking my bov/ and 
arrows, hurried off alone, and soon found myself not 
far from Circe's palace. 



Prose 47 

As I walked in that dangerous valley, there came to 
me a youth, whom I knew at once to be Hermes, the 
messenger of the gods. He gently took hold of my 
hand and, looking compassionately on me, said : *'Thou 
most unhappy man! Why art thou roaming alone in 
this wild place? Or art thou bound on the errand of 
delivering thy friends who have been changed by Circe 
into swine? Much do I fear that thou mayst meet 
with the same fate. Listen to my words and heed them 
well if thou wouldst destroy the treacherous schemes 
of Circe. Take this little flower. Its name is Moly 
^among the gods, and no wicked sorcery can hurt the 
man who treasures it carefully. Its root is black. Its 
blossom is as white as milk, and it is hard for men 
to tear it from the ground. Take this herb and go fear- 
lessly into the dwelling of the sorceress ; it will guard 
thee against all mishap. She will bring thee a bowl of 
wine, mingled with the juice of enchantment, but do 
not fear to eat or drink anything she may offer thee." 

When Hermes had spoken thus he left me, to re- 
turn to high Olympus, and I walked to the house of 
Circe with a braver heart. As I came near the palace 
I called out to the goddess with a loud voice, and she 
threw open the doors for me to enter. She bade me 
sit down on a beautiful throne and placed a golden 
foot-stool under my feet, Then she gave me the dan- 
gerous cup and I drank it off, but her charm did not 
work. 

Scarcely had I drained the cup when the goddess 
struck me with her wand and said: ''Off with thee! 
Go to the pigsty, where friends await thy coming!" 
In a twinkling I had my sword in hand and rushed 
upon her as if to kill her. Circe shrieked with fear 
and fell on her knees to implore my mercy. "Who 
art thou and whence dost thou come?" said Circe. 
"Thou art the first man over whom my magic wine has 
had no power. Art thou really that Ulysses of whom 
Hermes told me that he was to come here after many 



48 Prose 

wanderings? But put up thy sword and cease to be 
angry with me and let us trust each other." 

I answered her: "O goddess, how can I have faith 
in thy words, since thou hast changed my companions 
into swine and dost plot the same fate for me ? Swear 
me the great oath of the gods that thou wilt not harm 
me, and I will trust thy words." Circe took the 
great oath, and she ordered her servants to spread a 
feast before me. But I could not eat. I sat down in 
silence, my mind full of grief and doubt. When Circe 
saw that I did not touch the food she said : ** Why dost 
thou not taste the food and wine?" I answered: 
"What man with a loyal heart, O goddess, could eat 
and drink with any pleasure while his comrades are 
kept in bondage and degradation? If thou art really 
kind and wouldst have me enjoy this bounteous feast, 

let me see my dear companions free once more!" 
The goddess took her wand and went to the pen and 

drove out the swine. She then anointed them with 
a magic ointment, and their bristles fell off and they 
stood up and were men again. They knew me and 
each one seized my hand, shedding tears of joy. Then 

1 sent for the rest of my men, who eagerly came up, 
and together we entered the palace, all of us weeping 
with joy. 

The School. 

(Copyrighted by T. Y. Crowell & Company, in "Cuore.") 
EDMONDO DE AMICIS, 1846. 

Yes, study comes hard to you, my dear boy, as your 
mother says ; I do not yet see you set out for school 
with that resolute mind and that smiling face which I 
should like. You are still intractable. But listen, re- 
flect a little ! What a miserable, despicable thing your 
day would be if you did not go to school ! At the end 
of the week you would beg with clasped hands that you 
might return there, for you would be eaten up with 



Prose 49 

weariness and shame ; disgusted with your sports and 
with your existence. Everybody, everybody studies 
now, my child. Think of the workmen who go to 
school in the evening after having toiled all the day; 
think of the women, of the girls, of the people, who 
go to school on Sunday, after having worked all the 
week; of the soldiers who turn to their books and 
copy-books when they return exhausted from their 
drill ! Think of the dumb and of the boys who are 
blind, but who study nevertheless ; and last of all, think 
of the prisoners, who also learn to read and write. 
Reflect in the morning when you set out that at that 
very moment, in your own city, thirty thousand other 
boys are going like yourself, to shut themselves up 
for three hours to study. Think of the innumer- 
able boys, who, at nearly this precise hour, are going 
to school in all countries. Behold them with your 
imagination going, going through the lanes and quiet 
villages ; through the streets of the noisy towns, along 
the shores of rivers and lakes ; here beneath a burn- 
ing sun; there amid fogs, in boats, in countries which 
are intersected with canals; on horseback on the far- 
reaching plains ; in sledges over the snow ; through 
valleys and over the hills; across forests and torrents, 
over the solitary paths of the mountains; alone, in 
couples, in groups, in long files, all with their books 
under their arms, clad in a thousand ways, speaking 
a thousand tongues, from the most remote schools in 
Russia, almost lost in the ice, to the furthermost 
schools of Arabia, shaded by palm trees, millions and 
millions, all going to learn the same things, in a hun- 
dred varied forms. Imagine this vast, vast throng of 
boys of a hundred races, this immense movement of 
which you form a part, and think if this movement 
were to cease, humanity would fall back into bar- 
barism; this movement is the progress, the hope, the 
glory of the world. Courage, then, little soldier of the 
immense army. Your books are your arms, your class 



50 Prose 

is your squadron, the field of battle is the whole earth, 
and the victory is human civilization. 
Be not a cowardly soldier, my child. 

The Perils of a Bee. 

(Copyrighted by Houghton, Mifflin & Company.) 

JOHN BURROUGHS, 1837. ABRIDGED FROM "BIRDS AND 
BEES." 

The life of a swarm of bees! How like the active 
and hazardous campaign of an army! What adven- 
tures they have by flood and field, and what hair- 
breadth escapes ! They are overwhelmed by wind and 
rain, caught by spiders, crushed by cattle, drowned in 
rivers and ponds and in the spring they die from cold. 
As the sun goes down they get chilled before they can 
reach home. Many fall down outside the hive, unable 
to get in with their burden. One may see them come 
in utterly spent and drop hopelessly into the grass in 
front of their very doors. Before they can rest the 
cold has stiffened them. I go out in April and May 
and pick them up by the handfuls, their baskets loaded 
with pollen, and warm them in the sun or in the house, 
or by the simple warmth of my hand, until they can 
crawl into the hive. I have also picked them up while 
rowing on a river and seen them safely to the shore. 
It is amusing to see them come hurrying home when 
there is a thunder-storm approaching. 

Their greatest misfortune is to lose their queen. She 
is the mother of the swarm. Deprived of their queen 
the swarm loses all heart and soon dies. 

Peace and Righteousness. 

THEODORE ROOSEVELT, 1864. FROM THE PRESIDENT'S 
MESSAGE 1906. 

Rather than see men wearing their chains in a cowardly and servile 
spirit, I would, as an advocate of Peace, much rather see them breaking 
the head of the tyi-ant with their chains. — William Lloyd Garrison. 

It must ever be kept in mind that war is not merely 
justifiable, but imperative upon honourable men, upon 



Prose 5 i 

an honourable nation, where peace can only be obtained 
by the sacrifice of conscientious conviction or of na- 
tional welfare. Peace is normally a great good, and 
normally it coincides with righteousness ; but it is 
righteousness and not peace which should bind the con- 
science of a nation as it should bind the conscience of 
an individual, and neither a nation nor an individual 
can surrender conscience to another's keeping. Neither 
can a nation, which does not die as individuals die, re- 
frain from taking thought for the interest of the gen- 
erations that are to come, no less than for the interest 
of the generations of to-day ; and no public men have a 
right, whether from shortsightedness, from selfish in- 
difference, or from sentimentality, to sacrifice national 
interests which are vital in character. A just war is in 
the long run far better for a nation's soul than the most 
prosperous peace obtained by acquiescence in wrong or 
injustice. Moreover, though it is criminal for a nation 
not to prepare for war, so that it may escape the dread- 
ful consequences of being defeated in war, yet it must 
always be remembered that even to be defeated in war 
may be far better than not to have fought at all. As 
has been well and finely said, a beaten nation is not 
necessarily a disgraced nation; but the nation or man 
is disgraced if the obligation to defend right is shirked. 
We should as a nation do everything in our power 
for the cause of honourable peace. It is morally as 
indefensible for a nation to commit a wrong upon an- 
other nation, strong or weak, as for an individual thus 
to wrong his fellows. We should do all in our power 
to hasten the day when there shall be peace among the 
nations — a peace based upon justice and not upon cow- 
ardly submission to wrong. 



52 Prose 



Character of Washington. 

CHARLES PHILLIPS. 

No matter what may be the birth-place of such a 
man as Washington. 

No climate can claim, no country can appropriate 
him — the boon of Providence to the human race — his 
fame is eternity, — his residence creation. Though it 
was the defeat of our arms, and the disgrace of our 
policy, I almost bless the convulsion in which he had 
his origin: if the heavens thundered and the earth 
rocked, yet, when the storm passed, how pure was the 
climate that it cleared. How bright in the brow of the 
firmament was the planet it revealed to us! In the 
production of Washington, it does really appear as if 
Nature was endeavouring to improve upon herself, and 
that all the virtues of the ancient world were but so 
many studies preparatory to the patriot of the new. 

Individual instances, no doubt, there were, splendid 
exemplifications of some single qualification — Caesar 
was merciful, — Scipio was continent, — Hannibal was 
patient,- — but it was reserved for Washington to blend 
them all in one, and like the lovely master-piece of the 
Grecian artist, to exhibit in one glow of associated 
beauty, the pride of every model, and the perfection 
of every master. 

As a General he marshalled the peasant into a vet- 
eran, and supplied by discipline the absence of experi- 
ence. 

As a statesman, he enlarged the policy of the 
cabinet into the most comprehensive system of general 
advantage, and such was the wisdom of his views, and 
the philosophy of his counsels, that to the soldier and 
the statesman, he almost added the character of the 
sage. 

A conqueror, he was untainted with the crime of 
blood — a revolutionist, he was free from any stain of 



Prose 53 

treason; for aggression commenced the contest, and 
a country called him to the command — liberty un- 
sheathed his sword^necessity stained, victory re- 
turned it. 

If he had paused here, history might doubt what sta- 
tion to assign him ; whether at the head of her citizens 
or her soldiers — her heroes or her patriots. But the 
last glorious act crowned his career, and banishes hesi- 
tation. 

Who, like Washington, after having freed a country, 
resigned her crown, and retired to a cottage rather 
than reign in a capital ! 

Immortal man! He took from the battle its crime, 
and from the conquest its chains — he left the victorious 
the glory of his self-denial, and turned upon the van- 
quished only the retribution of his mercy. 

Happy, proud America! The lightnings of heaven 
yielded to your philosophy ! — The temptations of earth 
could not seduce your patriotism ! 

Taxes, the Price of Glory. 

REV. SYDNEY SMITH, 1768-1845. 

I went into a store one day and bought some cloth for a dress, some 
gloves, and a few other articles of clothing. I asked how much tariff-tax 
I had paid and the salesman looked it up. He said that I had paid a 
tax of twenty-six dollars, and he added that it was for the protection 
of manufactures. They do say that there are two millions of little 
children in this country working in mills, day and night, who are giving 
their health and even their lives to "protect" or to further manufactur- 
ing "interests;" and yet, cloth is not as good as it was in the ancient 
times when there were no mills and no manufacturing interests. And 
women do not vote. John Fiske says: "You can always rely on the 
stupidity of the people." Renan says that in all this world he has never 
yet seen that there was any justice for sheep. I can pay twenty-six 
dollars a day in taxes to help to keep two millions of little children 
toiling in mills all night. 

Verily, if I were not a sheep, you would hear my "Barbaric Yawp 
over the roofs of the world." This note is dictated by a little crippled 
ghost who gets a chance, once in a while, to sit out in front of a mill, 
with her doll-baby in her arms. But she is too tired to play with it, so 
she just sleeps and nods over it. 

John Bull can inform Jonathan what are the in- 
evitable consequences of being too fond of Glory: 
Taxes ! Taxes upon every article which enters into the 



54 Prose 

mouth, or covers the back, or is placed under the foot ; 
taxes upon everything v^hich is pleasant to see, hear, 
feel, smell, or taste ; taxes upon warmth, light, and lo- 
comotion ; taxes on everything on earth, and the waters 
under the earth; on everything that comes from 
abroad, or is grown at home; taxes on the raw mate- 
rial; taxes on every fresh value that is added to it 
by the industry of man; taxes on the sauce which 
pampers man's appetite, and the drug that restores him 
to health; on the ermine which decorates the Judge, 
and the rope which hangs the criminal; on the poor 
man's salt, and the rich man's spice ; on the brass nails 
of the coffin, and the ribbons of the bride; at bed or 
board, couchant or levant, we must pay. 

The school-boy whips his taxed top. The beardless 
youth manages his taxed horse, with a taxed bridle, on 
a taxed road. The dying Englishman, pouring his 
medicine, which has paid seven per cent., into a spoon 
that has paid fifteen per cent., flings himself back upon 
his chintz-bed, which has paid twenty-two per cent., 
makes his will on an eight-pound stamp, and expires in 
the arms of an apothecary, who has paid a license of 
a hundred pounds for the privilege of putting him to 
death. His whole property is then immediately taxed 
from two to ten per cent. Besides the probate, large 
fees are demanded for burying him in the chancel. His 
virtues are handed down to posterity on taxed marble ; 
and he is then gathered to his fathers, — to be taxed 
no more. 

The Revolutionary Alarm. 

(Permission of D. Appleton & Company.) 
GEORGE BANCROFT, 1800-1891. 

Darkness closed upon the country and upon the 
town, but it was no night for sleep. Heralds on swift 
felays of horses transmitted the war message from 
hand to hand, till village repeated it to village, the sea 



Prose 55 

to the backwoods, the plains to the highlands ; and it 
was never suffered to droop till it had been borne 
north, and south, and east, and west, throughout the 
land. 

It spread over the bays that receive the Saco and 
the Penobscot. Its loud reveille broke the rest of the 
trappers of New Hampshire, and, ringing like bugle- 
notes from peak to peak, overleaped the Green Moun- 
tains, swept onward to Montreal, and descended the 
ocean river, till the responses were echoed from the 
cliffs of Quebec. The hills along the Hudson told to 
oqe another the tale. 

As the summons hurried to the south, it was one 
day at New York; in one more at Philadelphia; the 
next, it lighted a watchfire at Baltimore; thence it 
waked an answer at Annapolis. Crossing the Potomac 
near Mount Vernon, it was sent forward without a 
halt to Williamsburg. It traversed the Dismal Swamp 
to Nansemond, along the route of the first emigrants to 
North Carolina. It moved onwards, and still onwards, 
through boundless groves of evergreen, to Newbern 
and to Wilmington. 

**For God's sake, forward it by night and by day," 
wrote Cornelius Harnett, by the express which sped for 
Brunswick. Patriots of South Carolina caught up its 
tones at the border, and despatched it to Charleston, 
and through pines and palmettos and moss-clad live- 
oaks, still farther to the South, till it resounded among 
the New England settlements beyond the Savannah. 

The Blue Ridge took up the voice, and made it 
heard from one end to the other of the valley of Vir- 
ginia. The Alleghanies opened their barriers that the 
''loud call" might pass through to the hardy riflemen 
on the Holston, the Watauga, and the French Broad. 
Ever renewing its strength, powerful enough even to 
create a commonwealth, it breathed its inspiring word 
to the first settlers of Kentucky; so that hunters who 
made their halt in the matchless valley of the Elkhorn, 



56 Prose 

commemorated the nineteenth day of April by naming 
their encampment Lexington. 

With one impulse the Colonies sprang to arms ; with 
one spirit they pledged themselves to each other "to 
be ready for the extreme event." With one heart the 
continent cried, "Liberty or Death !" 

The Ten Commandments. 

The Ten Commandments are here because they are just as author- 
itative in my mind as they were when as a little child I committed them 
to memory to recite in Sabbath-school. 

1. Thou shalt have no other gods before me. 

2. Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image, 
or any likeness of anything that is in heaven above, 
or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the water 
under the earth : Thou shalt not bow down thyself 
to them, nor serve them: for I the Lord thy God am 
a jealous God, visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon 
the children unto the third and fourth generation of 
them that hate me ; and shewing mercy unto thousands 
of them that love me, and keep my commandments. 

3. Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy 
God in vain: for the Lord will not hold him guilt- 
less that taketh his name in vain. 

4. Remember the sabbath day, to keep it holy. Six 
days shalt thou labour, and do all thy work. But the 
seventh day is the sabbath of the Lord thy God : in it 
thou shalt not do any work, thou, nor thy son, nor thy 
daughter, thy man-servant, nor thy maid-servant, nor 
thy cattle, nor thy stranger that is within thy gates: 
For in six days the Lord made heaven and earth, the 
sea, and all that in them is, and rested the seventh 
day : wherefore the Lord blessed the sabbath day, and 
hallowed it. 

5. Honour thy father and thy mother : that thy days 
may be long upon the land which the Lord thy God 
giveth thee. 

6. Thou shalt not kill. 



Prose 57 

7. Thou shalt not commit adultery. 

8. Thou shalt not steal. 

9. Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy 
neighbour. 

10. Thou shalt not covet thy neighbour's house, 
thou shalt not covet thy neighbour's wife, nor his man- 
servant, nor his maid-servant, nor his ox, nor his ass, 
nor anything that is thy neighbour's. 

Sir Roger and the Gipsies. 

JOSEPH ADDISON, 1672-1719. FROM "SIR ROGER DE 
COVERLEY." 

''Be sure to include Addison," said John Burroughs in looking over 
this collection. 

How well do we remember the gipsies, yes the gypsies, who lived in 
wagons and tents near the town, when we were children; they came 
silently and went silently. 

Did I see a group of children "keeping house" among a pile of stones 
under the trees not long ago? But they go to school and here is a 
recitation for them, Emmeline. 

As I was riding out in the fields with my friend. Sir 
Roger, we saw at a little distance from us a troop of 
gipsies. 

If a stray piece of linen hangs upon a hedge, says 
Sir Roger, the gipsies are sure to have it; if the hog 
loses his way in the fields, it is ten to one but he be- 
comes their prey; our geese cannot live in peace for 
them ; if a man prosecutes them with severity, his hen- 
roost is sure to pay for it. They generally straggle 
into these parts about this time of the year; and set 
the heads of our servant-maids so agog for husbands, 
that we do not expect to have any business done as it 
should be whilst they are in the country. I have an 
honest dairy-maid who crosses their hands with a piece 
of silver every summer, and never fails being prom- 
ised the handsomest young fellow in the parish for 
her pains. Your friend the butler has been fool enough 
to be seduced by them; and though he is sure to lose 
a knife, a fork, or a spoon every time his fortune is 
told him, generally shuts himself up in the pantry with 
an old gipsy for above half an hour once in a twelve- 



58 Prose 

month. Sweethearts are the things they Hve upon, 
which they bestow very plentifuhy upon all those that 
apply themselves to them. You see now and then some 
handsome young jades among them; they have white 
teeth and black eyes. 

Sir Roger observing that I listened with great at- 
tention to his account of a people who were so entirely 
new to me, told me, that if I would, they should tell us 
our fortunes. As I was very well pleased with the 
knight's proposal, we rid up, and communicated our 
hands to them. A Cassandra of the crew, after having 
examined my lines very diligently, told me that I loved 
a pretty maid in a corner, and that I was a good 
woman's man. 

My friend Sir Roger alighted from his horse, and 
exposing his palm to two or three that stood by him, 
they crumpled it all shapes, and diligently scanned 
every wrinkle that could be made in it; when one of 
them, who was older and more sunburned than the 
rest, told him that he had a widow in his line of life. 
Upon which the knight cried. Go, go; you are an idle 
baggage ; and at the same time smiled upon me. The 
gipsy finding he was not displeased in his heart, told 
him after a farther inquiry in his hand, that his true 
love was constant, and that she should dream of him 
to-night. My old friend cried pish, and bid her go on. 
The gipsy told him that he was a bachelor, but would 
not be so long; and that he was dearer to somebody 
than he thought. The knight still repeated she was an 
idle baggage, and bid her go on. Ah, master, says the 
gipsy, that roguish leer of yours makes a pretty 
woman's heart ache; you have not that simper about 
the mouth for nothing. The uncouth gibberish with 
which all this was uttered, like the darkness of an 
oracle, made us the more attentive to it. To be short, 
the knight left the money with her that he had crossed 
her hand with, and got up again on his horse, and we 
rode away. 



Prose 59 



The Slaying of the Wine-Bags. 

(Copyrighted in school edition of "Don Quixote," by Charles Scrib- 
ner's Sons.) 

CERVANTES, 1547-1616. 

"The Slaying of the Wine-Bags" has been popular with scores of my 
pupils who have had it as a reading lesson. It is frorn the brain of 
Cervantes, the greatest humourist and satirist that ever lived, and from 
"Don Quixote," the greatest romance of chivalry ever written. "Don 
Quixote" is one of the "Literary Bibles" of the ages, and Cervantes is 
one of the five greatest authors the world has ever produced A course 
of study that does not include some attention to "Don Quixote" in any 
school system or university, is essentially crude. This book has 
"sprinkled the world with merriment" and with reverence and ethics 
and a love of plain common sense. 

The priest bade the host get dinner ready of what- 
ever they had in the inn, and the landlord quickly pre- 
pared for them a fairly good meal. All this while Don 
Quixote slept, and they agreed not to wake him, think- 
ing it better for him to sleep than to eat. They talked 
at table of his strange madness and of the state in 
which he had been found. 

Upon the priest's saying that the books of chivalry 
which Don Quixote read had turned his brain, the 
landlord cried : 

*T do not know how that can be, for to my think- 
ing there is no finer reading in the world. I have 
here two or three of them which truly have put life 
into me, and into many others also." 

''Bring me these books, master landlord," said the 
priest, "for I should like to see them." 

"With pleasure," he replied, and going into the next 
room, he brought out a little old travelling-bag. From 
this he took three large books, which he handed to the 
priest, who looked them over and, remembering how 
Don Quixote's books had been disposed of, suggested 
that they should burn these also. At this the host was 
very indignant, and would not hear of such a thing. 

*'But, my good friend," said the priest, '"these books 
are lying books, and full of frenzies and follies." 

"Go to, sir," exclaimed the host. 'T would rather 
let my son be burnt than suffer one of these books to 



6o Prose 

burn, for with only listening to one of them you would 
turn mad with delight," So the priest yielded to the 
host, seeing how much he prized the books; and in- 
stead of burning them, he picked out one, and at the 
request of the company, began to read aloud from it. 

They were in the midst of this entertainment when 
Sancho rushed into the room, all in a fright, crying 
at the top of his voice, "Run, sirs, quick, and help my 
master, who is in the thick of the fiercest battle my 
eyes have ever seen. He has dealt such a cut on the 
giant, the enemy of the lady princess, that he has 
sliced his head clean off, like a turnip." 

''What sayest thou, brother?" cried the priest, leav- 
ing off reading. ''Art in thy senses, Sancho? How the 
devil can that be which thou sayest, the giant being 
many thousand miles away from here?" Upon this 
they heard a great noise in the room, and Don Quixote 
shouting aloud, "Hold, thief ! scoundrel ! rogue ! for I 
have thee here, and thy sword shall not help thee;" 
and it seemed as if he dealt great blows against the 
walls. 

Quoth Sancho, "You have not to stand here listen- 
ing, but go in and part the foes, or help my master; 
although now there will be no need, for doubtless the 
giant is already dead, and giving an account to God 
of his wicked life. For I saw his blood run all about 
the floor, and the head, which is the size of a big wine- 
skin, cut off and fallen to one side." 

"May I die," exclaimed the innkeeper, "if Don 
Quixote or Don Devil has not given a cut to one of 
the skins of red wine which hung full at his bed's head, 
and the wine that is spilt must be what this fellow 
takes for blood !" 

With that he ran into the room, and found Don 
Quixote in the strangest plight. Over his left arm he 
had folded the bed-quilt, and in his right hand he had 
a drawn sword, with which he was cutting and slash- 
ing on all sides, uttering words as if he were really 



Prose 6 1 

fighting with some giant. And the best of it was that 
his eyes were not open, for he was asleep, dreaming 
that he was in battle with the giant ; and he had given 
so many cuts in the skins that the whole room was full 
of wine. 

The True Distinction of a State. 

WILLIAM ELLERY CHANNING, 1 780-1842. 

To a little friend of mine who lives in a palace but he would rather 
keep chickens. 

Tell me not of the honour of belonging to a free 
country. I ask, does our liberty bear generous fruits ? 
Does it exalt us in manly spirit, in public virtue, above 
countries trodden under foot by Despotism? Tell me 
not of the extent of our territory. I care not how 
large it is, if it multiply degenerate men. Speak not 
"of our prosperity. Better be one of a poor People, 
plain in manners, revering God and respecting them- 
selves, than belong to a j^ich country, which knows no 
higher good than riches. 

Earnestly do I desire for this country that, instead 
of copying Europe with an undiscerning servility, it 
may have a character of its own, corresponding to the 
freedom and equality of our institutions. One Europe 
is enough. One Paris is enough. How miich to be 
desired is it, that, separated as we are from the eastern 
continent by an ocean, we should be still more widely 
separated by simplicity of manners, by domestic purity, 
by inward piety, by reverence for human nature, by 
moral independence, by withstanding that subjection 
to fashion, and that debilitating sensuality, which char- 
acterises the most civilised portions of the Old World ! 

Of this country I may say with emphasis that its 
happiness is bound up in its virtue. 



62 Prose 

The Poor. 

(Copyrighted by T. Y. Crowell & Company, in "Cuore.") 

EDMONDO DE AMICIS, 1846. 

"Cuore" (Heart) is one of the greatest books of this century or any 
century. Edmondo de Amicis, above all other writers, (unless it is 
Lanier), makes sentiment, affection, love, the greatest thing in the world. 
"Imagine what my countrymen would say," exclaimed a German 
baroness, "if our teachers should teach the children to love animals and 
love everybody." And yet Frobel's philosophy is wholly that of benevo- 
lent love. In "Cuore" a little school-boy receives letters from his father 
and mother, instructing him always to love — schoolmates, the poor, the 
teachers, the patriots; the whole point of the book is the development of 
the Heart of the boy. 

Do not accustom yourself to pass indifferently be- 
fore misery which stretches out its hands to you, and 
far less before a mother who asks a copper for her 
child. Reflect that the child may be hungry ; think of 
the agony of that poor woman. Picture to yourself 
the sob of despair of your mother, if she were some 
day forced to say, ''My son, I cannot give you any 
bread to-day!" Draw a coin from your little purse 
now and then, and let it fall into the hand of a blind 
man without the means of subsistence, of a mother 
without bread, of a child without a mother. The poor 
love the alms of boys, because it does not humiliate 
them, and because boys, who stand in need of every- 
thing, resemble themselves; you see that there are al- 
ways poor people around the schoolhouses. The alms 
of a man is an act of charity ; but that of a child is at 
one and the same time an act of charity and a caress — 
do you understand ? It is as though a coin and a flower 
fell from your hand together. Reflect that you lack 
nothing, and that they lack everything; that while you 
aspire to be happy, they are content simply with not 
dying. Reflect that it is a horror, in the midst of so 
many palaces, along the streets, thronged with car- 
riages, and children clad in velvet, that there should be 
women and children who have nothing to eat. To have 
nothing to eat ! Heavens ! Boys like you, as good as 
you, as intelligent as you, who in the midst of a great 



Prose 63 

city, have nothing to eat, like wild beasts lost in a 
desert ! 

Oh, never pass a mother who is begging, without 
placing a coin in her hand ! 

Against Philip. 

DEMOSTHENES, 384-322 B.C. A PHILIPPIC, TRANSLATED BY 
EPES SARGENT. 

This "oration" is for a little girl who asks "What is a Philippic?" 

O MY countrymen! when will you do your duty? 
Why do you wait? Tell me, is it your wish to go about 
the public places, here and there, continually asking, 
*'What is there new ?" Ah ! what should there be new, 
if not that a Macedonian could conquer Athens, and 
lord it over Greece ? "Is Philip dead ?" ''No, by Jupi- 
ter; he is sick!" Dead or sick, what matters it to 
3^ou? If he were to die, and your vigilance were to 
continue as slack as now, you would cause a new Philip 
to rise up at once, — since this one owes his aggran- 
disement less to his own power than to your inertness ! 
It is a matter of astonishment to me, O Athenians, that 
none of you are aroused either to reflection or to anger, 
in beholding a war, begun for the chastisement of 
Philip, degenerate at last into a war of defence against 
him. And it is evident that he will not stop even yet, 
unless we bar his progress. But where, it is asked, 
shall v/e make a descent? Let us but attack, O Athe- 
nians, and the war itself will disclose the enemy's weak 
point. But if we tarry at home, lazily listening to 
speech-makers, in their emulous abuse of one another, 
never, — no, never, shall we accomplish a necessary 
step! 

Some among you, retailing the news, affirm that 
Philip is plotting with Lacedaemon the ruin of Thebes 
and the dismemberment of our democracies; others 
make him send ambassadors to the Great King ; others 
tell us he is fortifying places in Illyria. All have their 



64 Prose 

different stories. For myself, Athenians, I do, by the 
gods, believe that this man is intoxicated by his mag- 
nificent exploits; I believe that a thousand dazzling 
projects lure his imagination; and that, seeing no bar- 
rier opposed to his career, he is inflated by success. 
But, trust me, he does not so combine his plans that 
all our fools of low degree may penetrate them ; which 
fools — who are they but the gossips? If leaving them 
to their reveries, we would consider that this man is 
our enemy, — our despoiler, — that we have long en- 
dured his insolence ; that all the succours, on which we 
counted, have been turned against us ; that henceforth 
our only resource is in ourselves ; that, to refuse now 
to carry the war into his dominions, would surely 
be to impose upon us the fatal necessity of sustain- 
ing it at the gates of Athens ; if we would compre- 
hend all this, we should then know what it imports 
us to know, and discard all idiot conjectures. It is 
not your duty to dive into the future ; but it does be- 
hoove you to look in the face of the calamities which 
that future must bring, unless you shake off your pres- 
ent heedless inactivity. 

On Profanity in the Army. 

GEORGE WASHINGTON, 1732-1799- 

Sometimes "The Land of Eloquence" is just a school-room. This 
selection is an added point for that good teacher whom I heard one morn- 
ing at Lake Placid leading her boys, so eloquently, over The Battle of 
Long Island, and making the character of Washington the keynote of the 
lesson. 

That the troops may have an opportunity of attend- 
ing public worship, as well as to take some rest after 
the great fatigue they have gone through, — the General 
in future excuses them from fatigue-duty on Sundays, 
except at the ship-yards, or on special occasions, until 
further orders. The General is sorry to be informed 
that the foolish and wicked practice of profane swear- 
ing — a vice heretofore little known in an American 
army — is growing into fashion. He hopes the officers 



Prose 65 

will, by example as well as influence, endeavour to 
check it; and that both they and the men will reflect 
that we can have little hope of the blessing of Heaven 
upon our arms if we insult it by our impiety and folly. 
Added to this, it is a vice so mean and low, without 
any temptation, that every man of sense and character 
detests it. 

No Farming Without a Boy. 

(Copyrighted by Houghton, Mifflin & Company.) 

CHARLES DUDLEY WARNER, 1829-1900. ABRIDGED FROM 
"BEING A BOY." 

The boy on the farm whose work is "a perpetual waiting on others" 
is like the city boy who runs to the market, cleans the steps, mails the 
letters, and does all the other "odd jobs." Or like the little girl who 
brushes up the crumbs and "shoos the chickens ofif the porch, to earn her 
board and keep." These children have their reward. They become 
resourceful, and the leaders of the Nation. Lincoln, Webster, Washing- 
ton served just such an apprenticeship. "Being a Boy" by Warner and 
"The Boys' Town" and "The Flight of Pony Baker" by Howells are 
books concerning boys that have no peers. 

Say what you will about the general usefulness of 
boys, it is my impression that a farm without a boy 
would very soon come to grief. What the hoy does is 
the life of the farm. He is the factotum, always in 
demand, always expected to do the thousand indis- 
pensable things that nobody else will do. Upon him 
fall all the odds and ends, the most difficult things. 
After everybody else is through, he has to finish up. 
His work is like a woman's, a perpetual waiting on 
others. Everybody knows how much easier it is to eat 
a good dinner than it is to wash the dishes afterwards. 
Consider what a boy on a farm is required to do ; things 
that must be done, or life would actually stop. 

It is understood, in the first place, that he is to do 
all the errands, to go to the store, to the post-oflice, 
and to carry all sorts of messages. H he had as many 
legs as a centipede, they would tire before night. His 
two short limbs seem to him entirely inadequate to the 
task. He would like to have as many legs as a wheel 
has spokes, and rotate about in the same way. This he 



66 Prose 

sometimes tries to do; and people who have seen him 
"turning cart-wheels" along the side of the road have 
supposed that he was amusing himself, and idling his 
time ; he was only trying to invent a new mode of lo- 
comotion, so that he could economise his legs and do 
his errands with greater despatch. He practises stand- 
ing on his head, in order to accustom himself to any 
position. Leapfrog is one of his methods of getting 
over the ground quickly. He would willingly go an 
errand any distance if he could leapfrog it with a 
few other boys. 

He is the one who spreads the grass when the men 
have cut it ; he mows it away in the barn ; he rides the 
horse to cultivate the corn, up and down the hot, weary 
rows ; he picks up the potatoes when they are dug ; he 
drives the cows night and morning; he brings wood 
and water and splits kindling ; he gets up the horse and 
puts out the horse ; whether he is in the house or out of 
it, there is always something for him to do. Just before 
school in winter he shovels paths ; in summer he turns 
the grindstone. 

Putting All of the Eggs in One Basket. 

(Copyrighted by Doubleday, Page & Company.) 

TEANNETTE L. GILDER. IN "THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A 
TOMBOY." 

This selection is for Jon, the dearest of little boys, whose mother — to 
keep him out of mischief — asked him to keep the flies away from the 
frosting on a cake until it hardened. Sequel: he fell into the cake and 
his face was frosted. 

There was a sound of revelry by night — music and 
the patter and scraping of feet on the sanded floor of 
the kitchen. Eagerly I opened the store-room door, 
and, standing on the edge of a barrel of eggs, mounted 
noiselessly to the top shelf and peered through the win- 
dow. What to my wondering eyes should appear but 
the floor cleared for dancing, the big table pushed back, 
and standing on it, our man-of -all-work, sawing out 
an Irish jig on his fiddle. In the centre of the floor. 



Prose 6^ 

with her petticoats tucked up and her arms akimbo, 
was the cook, and "fernenst" her, as she would have 
put it, was *Taddy" Grogan, who kept a corner gro- 
cery in a back street. He had on an old high hat, and 
with a stick under his arm was doing a jig as only 
one to the manner born can do it. 

Bridget was out of breath ; her face was red to the 
verge of purple, and her hair hanging in damp locks 
over her shoulders. Puffing and blowing, she threw 
herself upon a chair, and another couple came to the 
front. I came near rolling off the shelf in my sur- 
prise, for who should the man be but my big brother 
Sandy, with a rosy-cheeked chambermaid as his vis- 
a-vis. He flung off his coat and went at that jig as 
though he had lived his life at Donnybrook. Every 
one applauded, and I clapped my hands with the rest. 
In my enthusiasm I shouted, "Good for you, Sandy!" 
Then there was a pause, while every ear was attention. 

Sandy stood, pale and perspiring, for he knew what 
would happen if he were caught dancing in the kitchen. 
"Who was that?" he exclaimed, looking eagerly about 
the room. Then his eyes met mine looking down from 
the window. He made a bolt for the door, and so did 
I. Of course, the inevitable happened. I lost my bal- 
ance and came down with a scream, both feet crashing 
through the barrel of eggs. 

When Sandy pulled me out I looked like an under- 
done omelette. Never before had I realised, as I did 
then, the folly of putting all one's eggs in the same 
basket. 

Great Art is the Expression of a Great Man. 

JOHN RUSKIN, 1819-1900. 

To any boy or girl who believes that art is in the hand, in the fingers 
and not in the heart. The best artists I have seen are those who practise 
the most self-denial, who make the greatest self-sacrifices, who look out 
for others, and who feel most strenuously along the lines of some great 
benevolence. 

Great art is the expression of the mind of a great 
man, and mean art, that of the want of mind of a weak 



68 Prose 

man. A foolish person builds foolishly, and a wise 
one, sensibly; a virtuous one, beautifully, and a vicious 
one, basely. If stone work is well put together, it 
means that a thoughtful man planned it, and a care- 
ful man cut it, and an honest man cemented it. If 
it has too much ornament, it means that its carver was 
too greedy of pleasure ; if too little, that he was rude, 
or insensitive, or stupid, and the like. So that when 
once you have learned how to spell these most precious 
of all legends, — pictures and buildings, — you may read 
the characters of men, and of nations, in their art, as in 
a mirror; — nay, as in a microscope, and magnified a 
hundredfold; for the character becomes passionate in 
the art, and intensifies itself in all its noblest or mean- 
est delights. Nay, not only as in a microscope, but as 
under a scalpel, and in dissection ; for a man may hide 
himself from you, or misrepresent himself to you, 
every other way ; but he cannot in his work : there, be 
sure, you have him to the inmost. All that he likes, all 
that he sees, — all that he can do, — his imagination, his 
affections, his perseverance, his impatience, his clumsi- 
ness, cleverness, everything is there. If the work is a 
cobweb, you know it was made by a spider; if a honey- 
comb, by a bee; a worm-cast is thrown up by a 
worm, and a nest wreathed by a bird; and a house 
built by a man, worthily, if he is worthy, and ignobly, 
if he is ignoble. 

And always, from the least to the greatest, as the 
made thing is good or bad, so is the maker of it. 



PART III. 
The Day's at the Morn 



PART III 

The Eagle. 

(Copyrighted by Houghton, Mifflin & Company.) 

JOHN BURROUGHS, 1837. FROM "BIRDS AND BEES." 

^ Here is a selection that everybody will "like"? no, will love. It is 
here in fond recollection of sixty boys and girls in Chicago who used 
to read with me "The Idyl of the Honey Bee" from John Burroughs' 
"Pepacton" (in 1887). 

The crows we have always with us, but it is not 
every day or every season that one sees an eagle. 
Hence, I must preserve the memory of one I saw the 
last day I went bee-hunting. As I was labouring up 
the side of a mountain at the head of a valley, the noble 
bird sprang from the top of a dry tree above me and 
came sailing directly over my head. I saw him bend 
his eye down upon me, and I could hear the low hum 
of his plumage, as if the web of every quill in his 
great wings vibrated in his strong level flight. 

I watched him as long as my eye could hold him. 
When he was fairly clear of the mountains he began 
that sweeping spiral movement in which he climbs the 
sky. Up and up he went without once breaking his 
majestic poise till he appeared to sight some far-off 
alien geography, when he bent his course thitherward 
and gradually vanished in the blue depths. 

The eagle is a bird of large ideas, he embraces long 
distances ; the continent is his home. I never look upon 
one without emotion; I follow him with my eye as 
long as I can. I think of Canada, of the Great Lakes, 
of the Rocky Mountains, of the wild and sounding sea- 
coast. The waters are his and the woods and the in- 

71 



72 Prose 

accessible cliffs. He pierces behind the veil of the 
storm, and his joy is height and depth and vast spaces. 

A Southern Storm. 

(Copyrighted by Charles Scribner's Sons, in "The Cable Story Book.") 

GEORGE W. CABLE, 1844. 

This description of a Southern rain-storm is unrivalled. It combines 
the witchery of a ghost story with the power of a Homeric tale. I 
have known a class of ten-year-olds to read it with keen appreciaiion. 

The storm fell like a burst of infernal applause. A 
whiff like fifty witches flouted up the canvas curtain 
of the gallery, and a fierce black cloud, drawing the 
moon under its cloak, belched forth a stream of fire 
that seemed to flood the ground; a peal of thunder 
followed as if the sky had fallen in, the house quivered, 
the great oaks groaned, and every lesser thing bowed 
down before the awful blast. Every lip held its breath 
for a minute — or an hour, no one knew ; there was a 
sudden lull of the wind, and the floods came down. 
Have you heard it thunder and rain in those Louisiana 
lowlands? Every clap seems to crack the world. It 
has rained a moment ; you peer through the black pane 
— your house is an island ; all the land is sea. 

The Blizzard. 

(Copyrighted by Charles Scribner's Sons and Harper BroLhers.) 

ELIZABETH B. CUSTER, BORN 1844- FROM "THE BOY 
GENERAL." 

"The Blizzard," by Mrs. Custer, has been one of my favourite reading 
lessons in school, and is equalled only by Lanier's description of a 
Texas blizzard. Mrs. Custer has no rival as a writer on The Western 
Plains and Army Life. 

The snow was so fine that it penetrated the small- 
est cracks, and soon we found white lines appearing all 
around us, where the roof joined the walls, on the 
windows and under the doors. Outside, the air was so 
thick with the whirling, tiny particles that it was al- 
most impossible to see one's hand held out before one. 



Prose 73 

The snow was fluffy and thick, Hke wool, and fell so 
rapidly, and seemingly from all directions, that it gave 
me a feeling of suffocation. 

At last the day came, but so darkened by the snow 
it seemed rather a twilight. The drifts were on three 
sides of us like a wall. 

When night came again and the cold increased, I 
believed that our hours were numbered. 

Occasionally I melted a little place on the frozen 
window-pane, and saw that the drifts were almost level 
with the upper windows on either side, but that the 
wind had swept a clear space before the door. Dur- 
ing the night the sound of the tramping of many feet 
rose above the roar of the storm. A great drove of 
mules rushed up to the sheltered side of the house. 
Their brays had a sound of terror as they pushed, 
kicked, and crowded themselves against our little cabin. 
For a time they huddled together, hoping for warmth, 
and then despairing, they made a mad rush away, and 
were soon lost in the white wall of snow beyond. All 
night long the neigh of a distressed horse, almost hu- 
man in its appeal, came to us at intervals. The door 
was pried open once, thinking it might be some suf- 
fering fellow-creature in distress. The « strange wild 
eyes of the horse peering in for help haunted me long 
afterward. Occasionally a lost dog lifted up a howl of 
distress under our window. When the night was near- 
ly spent I sprang again to the window with a new hor- 
ror, for no one, until he hears it for himself, can real- 
ise what varied sounds animals make in the excitement 
of peril. A drove of hogs, squealing and grunting, 
were pushing against the house, and the door, which 
had withstood so much, had to be held to keep it from 
being broken in. Every minute seemed a day; every 
hour a year. When daylight came I dropped into an 
exhausted slumber. 



74 Prose 

A Wind-Storm in the Forests of California. 

(Copyrighted by The Century Company.) 

JOHN MUIR, BORN 1838. 

A nine-year-old boy brought John Muir's ^reat book, "The Moun- 
tains of California," to my attention, for which I have beeri grateful 
many years, because, more than any other work on California, it has 
assisted me in teaching the geography of the West, at the same time 
feeding my imagination and my love of nature and good literature. ,John 
Burroughs says it is a great book, and there's no higher praise to give it. 

When the storm began to sound, I lost no time in 
pushing out into the woods to enjoy it. 

Delicious sunshine came pouring over the hills, light- 
ing the tops of the pines, and setting free a stream of 
summery fragrance that contrasted strangely with the 
wild tones of the storm. The air was mottled with 
pine-tassels and bright green plumes, that went flashing 
past in the sunlight like birds pursued. 

I heard trees falling for hours at the rate of one 
every two or three minutes; some uprooted, partly on 
account of the loose, water-soaked condition of the 
ground; others broken straight across, where some 
weakness caused by fire had determined the spot. 
Young Sugar Pines, light and feathery as squirrel-tails, 
were bowing almost to the ground ; while the grand 
old patriarchs, whose massive boles had been tried in a 
hundred storms, waved solemnly above them, their 
long, arching branches streaming fluently on the gale, 
and every needle thrilling and ringing and shedding 
off keen lances of light like a diamond. 

The force of the gale was such that the most stead- 
fast monarch of them all rocked down to its roots with 
a motion plainly perceptible when one leaned against 
it. Nature was holding high festival and every fibre 
of the most rigid giants thrilled with glad excitement. 

It occurred to me that it would be a fine thing to 
climb one of the trees to obtain a wider outlook and get 
my ear close to the ^olian music of its topmost nee- 
dles. But under the circumstances the choice of a 



Prose 75 

tree was a serious matter. One whose instep was not 
very strong seemed in danger of being blown down, 
or of being struck by others in case they should fall; 
another was branchless to a considerable height above 
the ground, and at the same time too large to be 
grasped with arms and legs in climbing; while others 
were not favourably situated for clear views. After 
cautiously casting about, I made choice of the tallest 
of a group of Douglas Spruces that were growing close 
together like a tuft of grass, no one of which seemed 
likely to fall unless all the rest fell with it. Though 
comparatively young, they were about lOO feet high, 
and their lithe, brushy tops were rocking and swirling 
in wild ecstasy. Being accustomed to climb trees in 
making botanical studies, I experienced no difficulty in 
reaching the top of this one, and never before did I 
enjoy so noble an exhilaration of motion. The slender 
tops fairly flapped and swished in the passionate tor- 
rent, bending and swirling backward and forward, 
round and round, tracing indescribable combinations of 
vertical and horizontal curves, while I clung with mus- 
cles firm braced, like a bobolink on a reed. 

In its widest sweeps my tree-top described an arc 
of from twenty to thirty degrees, but I felt sure of its 
elastic temper, having seen others of the same species 
still more severely tried — bent almost to the ground 
indeed, in heavy snows — without breaking a fiber. I 
was therefore safe, and free to take the wind into my 
pulses and enjoy the excited forest from my superb 
outlook. The view from here must be extremely beau- 
tiful in any weather. Now my eye roved over the piny 
hills and dales as over fields of waving grain, and felt 
the light running in ripples and broad swelling undula- 
tions across the valleys from ridge to ridge, as the 
shining foliage was stirred by corresponding waves of 
air. Oftentimes these waves of reflected light would 
break up suddenly into a kind of beaten foam, and 
again, after chasing one another in regular order, they 



^6 Prose 

would seem to bend forward in concentric curves, and 
disappear on some hillside, like sea-waves on a shelving 
shore. The quantity of light reflected from the bent 
needles was so great as to make whole groves appear 
as if covered with snow, while the black shadows be- 
neath the trees greatly enhanced the effect of the sil- 
very splendour. 

The sounds of the storm corresponded gloriously 
with this wild exuberance of light and motion. The 
profound bass of the naked branches and boles boom- 
ing like waterfalls, the quick tense vibrations of the 
pine-needles, now rising to a shrill, whistling hiss, now 
falling to a silky murmur ; the rustling of laurel groves 
in the dells, and the keen metallic click of leaf on leaf 
— all this was heard in easy analysis when the attention 
was calmly bent. 

The varied gestures of the multitude were seen to 
fine advantage, so that one could recognise the differ- 
ent species at a distance of several miles by this means 
alone, as well as by their forms and colours, and the 
way they reflected the light. All seemed strong and 
comfortable, as if really enjoying the storm, while re- 
sponding to its most enthusiastic greetings. We hear 
much nowadays concerning the universal struggle for 
existence, but no struggle in the common meaning of 
the word was manifest here; no recognition of dan- 
ger by any tree; no deprecation; but rather an invin- 
cible gladness as remote from exultation as from fear. 

We all travel the milky way together, trees and men ; 
but it never occurred to me until this storm-day, while 
swinging in the wind, that trees are travellers, in the 
ordinary sense. They make many journeys, not ex- 
tensive ones, it is true; but our own little journeys, 
away and back again, are only little more than tree- 
wavings — many of them not so much. 

When the storm began to abate, I dismounted and 
sauntered down through the calming woods. The storm 
tones died away, and turning toward the east, I beheld 



Prose 77 

the countless hosts of the forests hushed and tranquil, 
towering above one another on the slopes of the hills 
like a devout audience. The setting sun filled them 
with amber light, and seemed to say, while they lis- 
tened, "My peace I give unto you." 



My Alligator's Home. 

(Copyrighted by Charles Scribner's Sons in "The Lanier Book.") 

SIDNEY LANIER, 1842-1881. 

This exquisite description of the alligator's home makes this creature, 
usually considered so ugly, attractive and interesting. Sympathy has 
so* much to do with putting the disadvantaged at their best. 

Some twenty miles from the mouth of the Ock- 
lawaha, at the right-hand edge of the stream, is the 
handsomest residence in America. It belongs to a cer- 
tain alligator of my acquaintance, a very honest and 
worthy reptile of good repute. A little cove of water, 
dark-green under the overhanging leaves, placid and 
clear, curves round at the river edge into the flags and 
lilies, with a curve just heart-breaking for its pure 
beauty. This house of the alligator is divided into 
apartments, little bays, which are scalloped out by the 
lily-pads, according to the winding fancies of their 
growth. My reptile, when he desires to sleep, has but 
to lie down anywhere ; he will find marvellous mosses 
for his mattress beneath him ; his sheets will be white 
lily-petals; and the green disks of the lily-pads will 
straightway embroider themselves together above him 
for his coverlet. He never quarrels with his cook, he 
is not the slave of a kitchen, and his one house-maid — 
the stream — forever sweeps his rooms clean. His con- 
servatories there under the glass of that water are 
ever, without labour, . filled with the enchantments of 
under-water growths. His parks and his pleasure- 
grounds are larger than any king's. Upon my Alli- 
gator's house the winds have no power, the rains are 
only a new delight to him, and the snows he will never 



78 Prose 

see. He does not use fire as a slave and so he does 
not fear it as a tyrant. Thus all the elements are the 
friends of my Alligator's house. While he sleeps he is 
being bathed. What glory to awake sweetened and 
freshened by the sole, careless act of sleep ! Lastly, my 
Alligator has unnumbered mansions, and can change 
his dwelling as no human householder may. One 
flip of his tail, and lo! he is established in another 
palace as good as the last, ready furnished to his liking. 

Our Poets Have Discovered America. 

EDWIN MARKHAM. IN "THE FUTURE POETRY OF 
AMERICA." 

To the little girls and boys who learn "Tampa Robins" when they 
study Florida and "The Song of the Chattahoochee" when they study 
Georgia, — "Paul Revere's Ride" when they study Massachusetts and so 
on, ---thus making "Geography" the Land of Poesy. 

At last our poets have discovered America! The 
rhodora, the dandelion, the wild poppy, now glow 
through their metres ; the bluebird, the bobolink, the 
mocking-bird, now carol through their rhymes. 

But not only have we flower and bird to tempt the 
poet's heart, we have also beauties and glories, myriad 
and marvellous, — mountains, rivers, lakes, forests 
stretching a thousand leagues away, — America, home ! 
The mere vastness of our land appeals to the imagina- 
tive passion. All the spaces and faces of our country, 
like the ideas of our people, have the large outline, the 
limitless sweep. 

Our Niagaras, our Sierras, our Yosemites, our in- 
land seas, our tragic deserts, our starless swamps, the 
tremendous journeys of our Mississippi, the eter- 
nal thunder of our Oregon, the illimitable stretches of 
our prairies, the twilight silences of our primeval for- 
ests, from these must come our ''As You Like It," 
our "Ode to a Skylark," our ''Sunrise Hymn to 
Chamouni." And not all the leagues of Europe, from 
Land's End to the Golden Horn; not all the leagues 



Prose 79 

of Asia, from Ararat to Fujiyama, afford so white a 
field for the harvest of the Muses. 

Of course, we are not bereft of poets who have 
seen some of these larger grandeurs of our land and 
framed them into song. We have Emerson's "Monad- 
nock," Lanier's "Marshes of Glynn." Hamlin Garland 
has sung her prairies, Joaquin Miller, the "Sundown 
Seas." But there are yet long reaches of land and 
water and sky untouched by song. They await the 
hour when some poet, with a splendid word, shall give 
them to man and to immortal memory. 

How the Griffin Taught School. 

(Copyrighted by Charles Scribner's Sons.) 

FRANK R. STOCKTON. FROM "FANCIFUL TALES." 

There are some children who behave better at school when they see the 
Bang- Stick coming. But those children are not Real Americans. A 
Real American can govern himself. He does not need a monster with 
wings and claws, a Griffin, for a teacher. 

One morning the Griffin looked into the Minor 
Canon's school-house, which was always empty now, 
and thought that it was a shame that everything should 
suffer on account of the young man's absence. 

"It does not matter so much about the church," 
he said, "for nobody went there; but it is a pity about 
the school. I think I will teach it myself until he re- 
turns." 

It was the hour for the opening of school, and the 
Griffin went inside and pulled the rope which rang 
the school-bell. Some of the children who heard the 
bell ran in to see what was the matter, supposing it to 
be a joke of one of their companions; but when they 
saw the Griffin they stood astonished and scared. 

"Go tell the other scholars," said the monster, "that 
school is about to open, and that if they are not all 
here in ten minutes I shall come after them." In seven 
minutes every scholar was in place. 

Never was seen such an orderly school. Not a 



8o Prose 

boy or girl moved or uttered a whisper. The Griffin 
cUmbed into the master's seat, his wide wings spread 
on each side of him, because he could not lean back 
in his chair if they stuck out behind, and his great 
tail coiled around, in front of the desk, the barbed end 
sticking up, ready to tap any boy or girl who might 
misbehave. 

The Griffin now addressed the scholars, telling them 
that he intended to teach them while their master was 
away. In speaking he tried to imitate, as far as pos- 
sible, the mild and gentle tones of the Minor Canon; 
but it must be admitted that in this he was not very 
successful. He had paid a good deal of attention to the 
studies of the school, and he determined not to try 
to teach them anything new, but to review them in 
what they had been studying ; so he called up the vari- 
ous classes, and questioned them upon their previous 
lessons. The children racked their brains to remem- 
ber what they had learned. They were so afraid of the 
Griffin's displeasure that they recited as they had never 
recited before. One of the boys, far down in his class, 
answered so well that the Griffin was astonished. 

*T should think you would be at the head," said he. 
'T am sure you have never been in the habit of reciting 
so well. Why is this ?" 

"Because I did not choose to take the trouble," said 
the boy, trembling in his boots. He felt obliged to 
speak the truth, for all the children thought that the 
great eyes of the Griffin could see right through them, 
and that he would know when they told a falsehood. 

''You ought to be ashamed of yourself," said the 
Griffin. -. ''Go down to the very tail of the class ; and if 
you are not at the head in two days, I shall know the 
reason why." The next afternoon this boy was Num- 
ber One. 

It was astonishing how much these children now 
learned of what they had been studying. It was as if 
they had been educated over again. The Griffin used 



Prose 8 I 

no severity toward them, but there was a look about 
hnn which made them unwiUing to go to bed until they 
were sure they knew their lessons for the next day. 

The Phantom-Ship. 

WASHINGTON IRVING, 1783-1859. ABRIDGED FROM "THE 
STORM-SHIP." 

To the boys and girls at Woodland who gathered together one stormy 
right by the light of the open fire to listen to ghost stories told us by 
Edwin Markham. 

In the golden age of the province of the New 
Netherlands, when under the sway of Wouter Van 
Twiller, otherwise called the Doubter, the people of the 
Manhattoes were alarmed one sultry afternoon by a 
tremendous storm of thunder and lightning. The rain 
fell in such torrents as absolutely to spatter up and 
smoke along the ground. It seemed as if the thunder 
rattled and rolled over the very roofs of the houses. 

Great was the terror of the good old women of the 
Manhattoes. They gathered their children together, 
and took refuge in the cellars; after having hung a 
shoe on the iron point of every bedpost, lest it should 
attract the lightning. At length the storm abated ; the 
thunder sank into a growl, and the setting sun, break- 
ing from under the fringed borders of the clouds, 
made the broad bosom of the bay to gleam like a sea 
of molten gold. The word was given from the fort 
that a ship was standing up the bay. It passed from 
mouth to mouth, and street to street, and soon put 
the little capital in a bustle. The arrival of a ship, in 
those early times of the settlement, was an event of 
vast importance to the inhabitants. It brought them 
news from the old world, from the land of their birth, 
from which they were so completely severed; to the 
yearly ship, too, they looked for their supply of lux- 
uries, of finery, of comforts, and almost of necessaries. 
The good vrouw could not have her new cap nor new 
gown until the arrival of the ship; the artist waited for 



82 Prose 

it for his tools, the burgomaster for his pipe and his 
supply of Hollands, the schoolboy for his top and mar- 
bles, and the lordly landholder for the bricks with 
which he was to build his new mansion. Thus every 
one, rich and poor, great and small, looked out for the 
arrival of the ship. It was the great yearly event of the 
town of New Amsterdam ; and from one end of the 
year to the other, the ship — the ship — the ship — was 
the continual topic of conversation. 

The ship was now repeatedly hailed, but made no 
reply, and passing by the fort, sailed on up the Hudson. 
A gun was brought to bear on her, and loaded and 
fired. The shot seemed absolutely to pass through 
the ship, and to skip along the water on the other side, 
but no notice was taken of it ! What was strange, she 
had all her sails set, and sailed right against wind and 
tide. 

Day after day, and week after week, elapsed, but she 
never returned down the Hudson. 

Captains of the sloops seldom arrived without 
bringing some report of having seen the strange ship 
at different parts of the river; sometimes near the 
Pallisadoes, sometimes off Croton Point, and some- 
times in the highlands ; but she never was reported as 
having been seen above the highlands. 

Sometimes it was by the flashes of the thunder- 
storm lighting up a pitchy night, and giving glimpses 
of her careering across Tappaan Zee, or the wide 
waste of Haverstraw Bay. 

Her appearance was always just after, or just be- 
fore, or just in the midst of unruly weather; and she 
was known among the skippers and voyagers of the 
Hudson by the name of "the storm-ship." 

It is said she still haunts the highlands, and cruises 
about Point-no-point. People who live along the river 
insist that they sometimes see her in summer moon- 
light ; and that in a deep still midnight they have heard 
the chant of her crew. 



Prose 83 

The captains of the river craft talk of a Dutch 
gobHn, in trunk-hose and sugar-loafed hat, with a 
speaking-trumpet in his hand, which they say keeps 
about the Dunderberg. They declare that they have 
heard him, in stormy weather, in the midst of the tur- 
moil, giving orders in Low Dutch for the piping up of 
a fresh gust of wind, or the rattling off of another 
thunder-clap. That sometimes he has been seen sur- 
rounded by a crew of little imps in broad breeches and 
short doublets ; tumbling head-over-heels in the rack 
and mist, and playing a thousand gambols in the air ; 
or buzzing like a swarm of flies about Antony's Nose ; 
and that, at such times, the hurry-scurry of the storm 
was always greatest. 

There is another story told of this foul-weather 
urchin, by Skipper Daniel Ouselsticker, of Fishkill, 
who was never known to tell a lie. He declared that, 
in a severe squall, he saw him seated astride of his 
bov/sprit, riding the sloop ashore, full butt against 
Antony's Nose, and that he was exorcised by Dominie 
Van Gieson, of Esopus, who sang the hymn of St. 
Nicholas ; whereupon the goblin threw himself up in 
the air like a ball, and went off in a whirlwind, carry- 
ing away with him the nightcap of the Dominie's wife ; 
which was discovered the next Sunday morning hang- 
ing on the weather-cock of Esopus church-steeple, at 
least forty miles off! 

Address of Black Hawk to General Street. 

This address was in an old book that I read when a child; it im- 
pressed me then and impresses me now. 

You have taken me prisoner with all my warriors. 
I am much grieved; for I expected if I did not defeat 
you, to hold out much longer, and give you more 
trouble before I surrendered. I tried hard to bring 
you into ambush, but your last General understood 
Indian fighting. I determined to rush on you, and 
fight you face to face. I fought hard. But your 



84 Prose 

guns were well aimed. The bullets flew like birds in 
the air, and whizzed by our ears like the wind through 
the trees in winter. My warriors fell around me; it 
began to look dismal. I saw my evil day at hand. 
The sun rose dim on us in the morning, and at night 
it sank in a dark cloud, and looked like a ball of fire. 
That was the last sun that shone on Black Hawk. His 
heart is dead, and no longer beats quick in his bosom. 
He is now a prisoner to the white men; they will do 
with him as they wish. But he can stand torture and 
is not afraid of death. He is no coward. Black Hawk 
is an Indian. 

He has done nothing for which an Indian ought to 
be ashamed. He has fought for his countrymen, 
against white men, who came, year after year, to cheat 
them, and take away their lands. You know the cause 
of our making war. It is known to all white men. 
They ought to be ashamed of it. The white men 
despise the Indians, and drive them from their homes. 
They smile in the face of the poor Indian, to cheat 
him ; they shake him by the hand to gain his confidence, 
to make him drunk, and to deceive him. We told them 
to let us alone, and keep away from us ; but they fol- 
lowed on and beset our paths, and they coiled them- 
selves among us like the snake. They poisoned us by 
their touch. We were not safe. We lived in danger. 
We looked up to the Great Spirit. We went to our 
father. We were encouraged. His great council 
gave us fair words and big promises; but we got no 
satisfaction; things were growing worse. There were 
no deer in the forest. The opossum and beaver were 
fled. The springs were drying up, and our squaws 
and pappooses were without victuals to keep them from 
starving. 

We called a great council, and built a large fire. 
The spirit of our fathers arose, and spoke to us to 
avenge our wrongs or die. We set up the war-whoop, 
and dug up the tomahawk; our knives were ready, 



Prose 85 

and the heart of Black Hawk swelled high in his 
bosom, when he led his warriors to battle. He is satis- 
fied. He will go to the world of spirits contented. He 
has done his duty. His father will meet him there and 
commend him. Black Hawk is a true Indian, and dis- 
dains to cry like a woman. He feels for his wife, 
his children, and his friends. But he does not care 
for himself. He cares for the Nation and the In- 
dians. They will suffer. He laments their fate. 
Farewell, my Nation! Black Hawk tried to save you 
and avenge your wrongs. He drank the blood of some 
gf the whites. He has been taken prisoner and his 
plans are crushed. He can do no more. He is near 
his end. His sun is setting, and he will rise no more. 
Farewell to Black Hawk. 

Frozen Words. 

JOSEPH ADDISON, 1672-1719. 

"Frozen Words" is the most popular literary gem from Addison that 
I have ever found. Every boy of twelve years hopes to find a Nova 
Zembla if not a North Pole. 

I HAVE got into my hands, by great chance, several 
manuscripts of two eminent authors, which are filled 
with greater wonders than any of those they have 
communicated to the public. The present paper I in- 
tend to fill with an extract of Sir John Mandeville's 
journal, in which that learned and worthy knight gives 
an account of the freezing and thawing of several 
short speeches which he made in the territories of 
Nova Zembla. The recital put into modern language 
is as follows : — 

"We were separated by a storm in the latitude of 
y2f, insomuch that only the ship which I was in, with a 
Dutch and a French vessel, got safe into a creek of 
Nova Zembla. We landed, in order to refit our vessels, 
and store ourselves with provisions. The crew of each 
vessel made themselves a cabin of turf and wood, at 



86 Prose 

some distance from each other, to fence themselves 
against the inclemencies of the weather, which was 
severe beyond imagination. 

"We soon observed, that in talking to one another 
we lost several of our words, and could not hear one 
another at above two yards' distance, and that too when 
we sat very near the fire. After much perplexity, I 
found that our words froze in the air before they could 
reach the ears of the person to whom they were spoken. 

"I was soon confirmed in this conjecture, when, 
upon the increase of the cold, the whole company 
grew dumb, or rather deaf; for every man was sensi- 
ble, as we afterwards found, that he spoke as well as 
ever; but the sounds no sooner took air than they 
were condensed and lost. It was now a miserable spec- 
tacle to see us nodding and gaping at one another, 
every man talking, and no man heard. One might ob- 
serve a seaman that could hail a ship at a league's dis- 
tance, beckoning with his hands, straining his lungs, 
and tearing his throat, but all in vain. 

"We continued here three weeks in this dismal 
plight. At length, upon a turn of w^nd, the air about 
us began to thaw. Our cabin was immediately filled 
with a dry clattering sound, which I afterwards found 
to be the crackling of consonants that broke above our 
heads, and were often mixed with a gentle hissing, 
which I imputed to the letter S, that occurs so fre- 
quently in the English tongue. I soon after felt a 
breeze of whispers rushing by my ear ; for those, be- 
ing of a soft and gentle substance, immediately lique- 
fied in the warm wind that blew across our cabin. 

"These were soon followed by syllables and short 
words and at length by entire sentences, that melted 
sooner or later, as they were more or less congealed; 
so that we now heard everything that had been spoken 
during the whole three weeks that we had been si- 
lent, if I may use that expression. 

"It was now very early in the morning, and yet, to 



Prose 87 

my surprise, I heard somebody say, 'Sir John, it is 
midnight, and \ime for the ship's crew to go to bed.' 
This I knew to be the pilot's voice, and, upon recol- 
lecting myself, I concluded that he had spoken these 
words to me some days before, though I could not 
hear them before the present thaw. My reader will 
easily imagine how the whole crew was amazed to 
hear every man talking, and see no man opening his 
mouth. 

"In the midst of this great surprise we were all 
in, we heard a volley of oaths, lasting for a long while, 
and uttered in a very hoarse voice, which I knew be- 
longed to the boatswain, who was a very choleric fel- 
low, and had taken his opportunity of swearing at me 
when he thought I could not hear him ; for I had sev- 
eral times given him the strappado on that account, as 
I did not fail to repeat it for these his pious solilo- 
quies when I got him on shipboard. 

''When this confusion of voices was pretty well 
over, though I was afraid to offer at speaking, as fear- 
ing I should not be heard, I proposed a visit to the 
Dutch cabin, which lay about a mile farther up into the 
country. My crew were extremely rejoiced to find 
they had again recovered their hearing, though every 
man uttered his voice with the same apprehensions that 
I had done. 

"At about half a mile's distance from our cabin, 
we heard the groanings of a bear, which at first startled 
us ; but upon inquiry we were informed by some of our 
company that he was dead, and now lay in salt, having 
been killed upon that very spot about a fortnight be- 
fore in the time of the frost. Not far from the same 
place we were likewise entertained with some posthu- 
mous snarls and barkings of a fox. 

"We at length arrived at the little Dutch settle- 
ment, and, upon entering the room, found it filled with 
sighs that smelt of brandy, and several other unsavoury 
sounds that were altogether inarticulate. My valet fell 



88 Prose 

into so great a rage at what he heard, that he drew 
his sword; but not knowing where to lay the blame, 
he put it up again. We were stunned with these con- 
fused noises, but did not hear a single word till about 
half an hour after; which I ascribed to the harsh and 
obdurate sounds of that language, which wanted more 
time than ours to melt and become audible. 

"After having here met with a very hearty wel- 
come, we went to the French cabin, who, to make 
amends for their three weeks' silence, were talking and 
disputing with greater rapidity and confusion than ever 
I heard in an assembly even of that nation. Their 
language, as I found, upon the first giving of the 
weather, fell asunder and dissolved. 

*T was here convinced of an error into which I 
had before fallen; for I fancied that for the freezing 
of the sound it was necessary for it to be wrapped 
up, and, as it were, preserved in breath ; but I found 
my mistake when I heard the sound of a kit playing 
a minuet over our heads. I asked the occasion of it ; 
upon which one of the company told me that it would 
play there above a week longer if the thaw continued. 
'For,' says he, 'finding ourselves bereft of speech, we 
prevailed upon one of the company, who had this musi- 
cal instrument about him, to play to us from morning 
to night ; all which time we employed in dancing.' " 

Here Sir John gives very good philosophical rea- 
sons why the kit could be heard during the frost ; but 
as they are something prolix, I pass over them in 
silence, and shall only observe that the honourable 
author seems, by his quotations, to have been well 
versed in the ancient poets, which perhaps raised his 
fancy above the ordinary pitch of historians, and very 
much contributed to the embellishment of his writings. 



Prose 89 



The Declaration of 1776. 

JOHN QUINCY ADAMS, 1767-1848. 

The Declaration of Independence! The interest 
which, in that paper, has survived the occasion upon 
which it was issued, — the interest which is of every age 
and every cHme, — the interest which quickens with the 
lapse of years, spreads as it grows old, and brightens 
as it recedes, — is in the principles which it proclaims. 
It was the first solemn declaration by a Nation of the 
only legitimate foundation of civil Government. It was 
the corner-stone of a new fabric, destined to cover the 
surface of the globe. It demolished at a stroke the 
lawfulness of all Governments founded upon conquest. 
It swept away the accumulated rubbish of centuries 
of servitude. It announced, in practical form, to the 
world, the transcendent truth of the inalienable sov- 
ereignty of the People. It proved that the social com- 
pact was no figment of the imagination, but a real, 
solid, and sacred bond of the social union. From the 
day of this Declaration, the people of North America 
were no longer the fragment of a distant empire, im- 
ploring justice and mercy from an inexorable master in 
another hemisphere. They were no longer children 
appealing in vain to the sympathies of a heartless 
mother; no longer subjects leaning upon the shattered 
columns of royal promises, and invoking the faith of 
parchment to secure their rights. They were a nation, 
asserting as a right, and maintaining by war, its own 
existence. A nation was born in a day. 

♦'How many ages hence 
Shall this, their lofty scene, be acted o'er 
In States unborn and accents yet unknown." 

It will be acted o'er, fellow-citizens, but it can never 
be repeated. 

It stands, and must forever stand, alone ; a beacon 
on the summit of the mountain, to which all the inhab- 



90 



Prose 



itants of the earth may turn their eyes for a genial and 
saving Hght, till time shall be lost in eternity, and this 
globe itself dissolve, nor leave a wreck behind. It 
stands forever, a light of admonition to the rulers of 
men, a light of salvation and redemption to the op- 
pressed. So long as this planet shall be inhabited by 
human beings, so long as man shall be of a social na- 
ture ; so long as Government shall be necessary to the 
great moral purposes of society, and so long as it shall 
be abused to the purposes of oppression, — so long shall 
this Declaration hold out to the sovereign and to the 
subject, the extent and the boundaries of their respec- 
tive rights and duties, founded in the laws of Nature 
and of Nature's God. 

The Right of Trial. 

COLONEL ISAAC BARRE, 1727-1802. 

"The Right of Trial" is from a reply, in Parliament, to Lord North, 
in 1774, on The Boston Port Bill, taking away the right of trial from 
the Boston people. It followed "The Boston Tea-Party." 

"The Right of Trial" is a topic of permanent interest, as "Every Child" 
should know. Without the "Trial" mob government would prevail. 
Even a child should have "The Right of Trial." 

Sir, this proposition is so glaring ; so unprecedented 
in any former proceedings of Parliament; so unwar- 
ranted by any delay, denial, or provocation of justice, 
in America, so big with misery and oppression to that 
country, and with danger to this, — that the first blush 
of it is sufficient to alarm and rouse me to opposi- 
tion. It is proposed to stigmatise a whole People as 
persecutors of innocence, and men incapable of doing 
justice; yet you have not a single fact on which to 
ground that imputation! I expected the noble lord 
would support this motion, by producing instances in 
which officers of Government in America had been 
prosecuted with unremitting vengeance, and brought 
to cruel and dishonourable deaths, by the violence and 
injustice of American juries. But he has not pro- 
duced one such instance; and I will tell you more, 



Prose 91 

Sir, he cannot produce one ! The instances which have 
happened are directly in the teeth of his proposition. 
Col. Preston and the soldiers who shed the blood of 
the people were fairly tried, and fully acquitted. It 
was an American jury, a New England jury, a Boston 
jury, which tried and acquitted them. Col. Preston 
has, under his hand, publicly declared that the inhab- 
itants of the very town in which their fellow-citizens 
had been sacrificed, were his advocates and defenders. 

Is this the return you make them? Is this the en- 
couragement you give them to persevere in so laudable 
a. spirit of justice and moderation ? But the noble Lord 
says, "We must now show the Americans that we will 
no longer sit quiet under their insults." Sir, I am 
sorry to say that this is declamation, unbecoming the 
character and place of him who utters it. In what mo- 
ment have you been quiet? 

Has not your government, for many years past, been 
a series of irritating and offensive measures, with- 
out policy, principle, or moderation? Have not your 
troops and your ships made a vain and insulting parade 
in their streets and in their harbours? Have you not 
stimulated discontent into disaffection, and are you not 
now goading disaffection into rebellion? Can you ex- 
pect to be well informed when you listen only to parti- 
sans? Can you expect to do justice when you will 
not hear the accused? 

Let the banners be once spread in America, and you 
are an undone People. You are urging this desperate, 
this destructive issue. I know the vast superiority of 
your disciplined troops over the Provincials; but be- 
ware how you supply the want of discipline by des- 
peration ! What madness is it that prompts you to at- 
tempt obtaining that by force, which you may more 
certainly procure by requisition ? The Americans may 
be flattered into anything; but they are too much like 
yourselves to be driven. Have some indulgence for 
your own likeness. Respect their sturdy English vir- 



92 Prose 

tue. Retract your odious exertions of authority, and 
remember that the first step toward making them con- 
tribute to your wants, is to reconcile them to your 
Government. 

Every Man is Great. 

WILLIAM ELLERY CHANNING, 1 780-1842. 

For Nelly, a little girl who speaks to the scrub-woman's daughter and 
walks along with her when the "nice" little girls tell her not to. 

Every man, in every condition, is great. It is only 
our own diseased sight which makes him little. A 
man is great as a man, be he where or what he may. 
The grandeur of his nature turns to insignificance all 
outward distinctions. His powers of intellect, of con- 
science, of love, of knowing God, of perceiving the 
beautiful, of acting on his own mind, on outward na- 
ture, and on his fellow-creatures, — these are glorious 
prerogatives. Let us not disparage that nature which 
is common to all men ; for no thought can measure its 
grandeur. It is the image of God, the image even of 
his infinity ; for no limits can be set to its unfolding. 
He who possesses the divine powers of the soul is a 
great being, be his place what it may. You may clothe 
him with rags, may immure him in a dungeon, may 
chain him to slavish tasks ; but he is still great. You 
may shut him out of your houses: but God opens to 
him heavenly mansions. He makes no show, indeed, 
in the streets of a splendid city ; but a clear thought, a 
pure affection, a resolute act of virtuous will, have a 
dignity of quite another kind, and far higher, than ac- 
cumulations of brick and granite, and plaster, and 
stucco, however cunningly put together, or though 
stretching far beyond our sight. Nor is this all. If 
we pass over this grandeur of our common nature, and 
turn our thoughts to that comparative greatness which 
draws chief attention, and which consists in the de- 
cided superiority of the individual to the general stand- 
ard of power and character, we shall find this as free 



Prose 93 

and frequent a growth among the obscure and un- 
noticed as in more conspicuous walks of life. The 
truly great are to be found everywhere, nor is it easy 
to say in what condition they spring up most plenti- 
fully. 

Real greatness has nothing to do with a man's 
sphere. It does not lie in the magnitude of his outward 
agency, in the extent of the effects which he pro- 
duces. The greatest men may do comparatively little 
abroad. Perhaps the greatest in our city at this moment 
are buried in obscurity. Grandeur of character lies 
wholly in force of soul, in force of thought, moral 
principle, and love ; and this may be found in the hum- 
blest condition of life. The greatest man is he who 
chooses the right with invincible resolution, who resists 
the sorest temptations from within and without, who 
bears the heaviest burdens cheerfully, who is calmest 
in storms and most fearless under menace and frowns, 
whose reliance on truth, on virtue, on God, is most 
unfaltering; and is this a greatness which is apt to 
make a show, or which is most likely to abound in 
conspicuous station? The father and mother of an 
unnoticed family who, in their seclusion, awaken the 
mind of one child to the idea and love of perfect good- 
ness, who awaken in him a strength of will to repel 
all temptation, and v/ho send him out prepared to profit 
by the conflicts of life, surpass, in influence, a Napoleon 
breaking the world to his sway. And not only is their 
work higher in kind, — who knows but that they are 
doing a greater work, even as to extent, than the 
conqueror? Who knows but that the being, whom 
they inspire with holy and disinterested principles, may 
communicate himself to others? and that, by a spread- 
ing agency, of which they were the silent origin, im- 
provements may spread through a Nation — through a 
world ? 



94 Prose 



The Birth-Day of Washington. 

RUFUS CHOATE, i799-i859- 

Every American child should know this "by heart" as soon as he has 
a heart to know it by. It has been a favourite among young "orators" 
for half a century or more. 

The birth-clay of the "Father of his Country" ! May 
it ever be freshly remembered by American hearts ! 
May it ever reawaken in them a filial veneration for 
his memory ; ever rekindle the fires of patriotic regard 
to the country which he loved so well ; to which he gave 
his youthful vigour and his youthful energy, during the 
perilous period of the early Indian warfare; to which 
he devoted his life, in the maturity of his powers, in 
the field ; to which again he offered the counsels of his 
wisdom and his experience, as President of the Con- 
vention that framed the Constitution ; which he guided 
and directed while in the Chair of State, and for which 
the last prayer of his earthly supplication was offered 
up, when it came the moment for him so well and 
so grandly, and so calmly, to die. 

He was the first man of the time in v/hich he grew. 
His memory is first and most sacred in our love ; and 
ever hereafter, till the last drop of blood shall freeze 
in the last American heart, his name shall be a spell 
of power and might. 

Yes, Gentlemen, there is one personal, one vast 
felicity, which no man can share with him. It was the 
daily beauty and towering and matchless glory of his 
life, which enabled him to create his country, and, at 
the same time, secure an undying love and regard from 
the whole American people. "The first in the hearts of 
his countrymen!" Yes, first! He has our first and 
most fervent love. Undoubtedly there were brave and 
wise and good men, before his day, in every colony. 
But the American Nation, as a Nation, I do not reckon 
to have begun before 1774. And the first love of that 
young America was Washington. The first word she 



Prose 95 

lisped was his name. Her earliest breath spoke it. It 
still is her proud ejaculation; and it will be the last 
gasp of her expiring life! 

Yes ! Others of our great men have been appre- 
ciated, — many admired by all. But him we love. Him 
we all love. About and around him we call up no 
dissentient and discordant and dissatisfied elements, — 
no sectional prejudice nor bias, — no party, no creed, 
no dogma of politics. None of these shall assail him. 
Yes. When the storm of battle blows darkest and 
rages highest, the memory of Washington shall nerve 
every American arm, and cheer every American heart. 
It shall relume that Promethean fire, that sublime flame 
of patriotism, that devoted love of country, which his 
words have commended, which his example has con- 
secrated. 

"Where may the wearied eye repose, 

When gazing on the great, 
Where neither guilty glory glows, 

Nor despicable state ? — 
Yes — one — the first, the last, the best. 
The Cincinnatus of the West, 

Whom Envy dared not hate, 
Bequeathed the name of Washington, 
To make man blush, there was but one." 



On Meidias, the Rich, at the Bar of Justice. 

DEMOSTHENES, 384-322 B.C. EDITED FROM THE SPEECH ON 
MEIDIAS. 

A palatial bouse, a vulgar show and use of wealth, horses and car- 
riages, great dinners, coarse language, violent conduct, these were the 
offences which provoked Demosthenes to bring Meidias to trial. It 
is interesting to notice in this speech the influence of Socrates on 
the mind of Demosthenes. "Age calleth unto age." 

Do not admire things of this kind and do not judge 
of liberality by these tests, — whether a man builds 
splendid houses or has many servants, or handsome 
furniture ; but look who is spirited and liberal in those 
things of which the majority of you share the en- 
joyment. Meidias, you will find, has nothing of that 



96 Prose 

kind. Will you let Meidias escape because he is rich? 
His riches are the cause of his insolence. You should 
rather take away the means which enable him to be in- 
solent than pardon him in consideration of them. To 
allow an audacious scoundrel to have wealth at his 
command is to put arms in his hands against your- 
selves. 

I take it you all know his disposition, his offensive 
and overbearing behaviour; many of the injured par- 
ties do not even like to tell what they have suffered, 
dreading this man's fortune which makes a despicable 
fellow strong and terrible. For when a rogue and 
a bully is supported by wealth and power, it is a wall 
of defence. Let Meidias be stripped of his possessions 
and he will not play the bully. If he should, he will 
be less regarded than the humblest man among you; 
he will rail to no purpose then, and be punished for 
any misbehaviour like the rest of us. 

I know that he will bring his children into court 
and whine; he will talk humbly and make himself as 
piteous as he can. But if he eludes justice now, he 
will again become the same Meidias that you know him 
for. 

Perhaps he will say of me, "This man is an orator." 
If one who advises what he thinks for your good, is an 
orator I would not refuse the name. But if an orator 
be an impudent fellow, enriched at your expense, — I 
can hardly be that; for I have received nothing from 
you ; but spent all my substance upon you, except a 
mere trifle. Probably, also, Meidias will say that my 
speech is prepared. I admit that I have got it up as 
well as I possibly could. I were a simpleton, indeed, if, 
having suffered injuries, I took no pains about the 
mode of , stating them to you. I maintain that Meidias 
has composed my speech ; he who has supplied the 
facts which the speech is about, may most fairly be 
deemed its author, and not he who has studied how to 
lay an honest case before the court. 



Prose 97 



Men, Better than Territory. 

JOHN RUSKIN, 1819-1900. 
"Thar's more in the man than thar is in the land." — Lanier. 

The strength of the nation is in its multitudes, not 
in its territory ; but only in its sound multitude. It is 
one thing both in a man and a nation, to gain flesh, and 
another to be swollen with putrid humours. 

Two men should be wiser than one, and two thou- 
sand than two. 

But when the men are true and good, and stand 
shoulder to shoulder, the strength of any nation is in 
its^ quantity of life, not in its land nor gold. The more 
good men a state has, in proportion to its territory, the 
stronger the state. And as it has been the madness of 
economists to seek for gold instead of life, so it has 
been the madness of kings to seek for land instead of 
life. They want the town on the other side of the 
river and seek it at the spear point: it never enters 
their stupid heads that to double the honest souls in the 
town on this side of the river, would make them 
stronger kings ; and that this doubling might be done 
by the plough-share instead of the spear, and through 
happiness instead of misery. 

All aristocracy is wrong which is inconsistent with 
numbers; and, on the other hand, all numbers are 
wrong which are inconsistent with breeding. 

The Vital Touch in Life. 

REV. WILLIAM S. RAINSFORD, 1849. 

For Carl and Laurie and Ben and Louis and Charles and all the 
other little boys who must have heard these words from the pulpit. 

We never can serve the cause of the God of truth 
by saying more than is true. 

Go forth in the noble purpose in which went forth 
the men who, ages ago, uprooted the ills of an evil 
time. Go forth strong in the purpose to give what 
you have got to give, and at least to know — and where 



98 Prose 

you can to help — what others are called to suffer and 
endure. 

Determine that if your life lack many things it shall 
not lack this: that simple, responsive, sympathetic, 
helpful touch which goes out of all who have the 
Spirit of God, which is the spirit of man, within them. 
Only insist on that, and from thousands of lives many 
and many unexpected blessings will come to you. 

If you have put your hand to the plough, do not 
look back. I cannot tell you how disappointing and 
demoralising it is to undertake some good work, and 
then, after a brief trial, drop it. God's promises, here 
and hereafter, are not for those who enter for the 
race, but for those who lay aside weights and beset- 
ments, that they may win. 

I say again, love well. O ! seek to bind to you, with 
this golden chain, the weak, the suffering, as well as 
the strong and the brave. Love well ; and though your 
teaching may cease, your knowledge vanish, and your 
tongue at last be silent, love well — love is the path 
that leads to the life beyond — and you will be missed 
on earth, and waited for in Heaven. 

Modern man is accurately, scientifically what he 
loves. His love limits him, his love expresses him, his 
love condemns him, his love is his salvation, his love 
is his judgment eternal, and his love is his perdition 
eternal. 

France and the United States. 

GEORGE WASHINGTON, 1732-1799- 

Born, Sir, in a land of liberty ; having early learned 
its value; having engaged in a perilous conflict to de- 
fend it; having, in a word, devoted the best years of 
my life to secure its permanent establishment in my 
own country — my anxious recollections, my sympa- 
thetic feelings, and my best wishes, are irresistibly ex- 
cited, whensoever, in any country, I see an oppressed 
Nation unfurl the banners of freedom. But, above 



Prose 99 

all, the events of the French Revolution have produced 
the deepest solicitude, as well as the highest admira- 
tion. To call your Nation brave, were to pronounce 
but common praise. Wonderful People ! Ages to come 
will read with astonishment the history of your bril- 
liant exploits! I rejoice that the reward of your toils 
and of your immense sacrifices is approaching. I re- 
joice that the interesting revolutionary movements of 
so many years have issued in the formation of a Con- 
stitution designed to give permanency to the great ob- 
ject for which you have contended. I rejoice that 
liberty, which you have so long embraced with en- 
thusiasm, — liberty, of which you have been the invinci- 
ble defenders, — now finds an asylum in the bosom of 
a regularly organised Government; a Government, 
which, being formed to secure the happiness of the 
French People, corresponds with the ardent wishes of 
my heart, while it gratifies the pride of every citizen of 
the United States, by its resemblance to his own. On 
these glorious events, accept, Sir, my sincere congratu- 
lations. 

In delivering to you these sentiments, I express not 
my own feelings only, but those of my fellow-citizens, 
in relation to the commencement, the progress, and 
the issue, of the French Revolution ; and they will cor- 
dially join with me in purest wishes to the Supreme 
Being, that the citizens of our sister Republic, our mag 
nanimous allies, may soon enjoy in peace that liberty 
which they have purchased at so great a price, and 
all the happiness which liberty can bestow. 

I receive, Sir, with lively sensibility, the symbol of 
the triumphs and of the enfranchisement of your Na- 
tion, the colours of France, which you have now pre- 
sented to the United States. The transaction will be 
announced to Congress ; and the colours will be de- 
posited with those archives of the United States, which 
are at once the evidences and the memorials of their 
freedom and independence. May these be perpetual ! 

LOFa 



lOO Prose 

And may the friendship of the two RepubHcs be com- 
mensurate with their existence ! 

Henry Clay's Reception in Baltimore. 

ANONYMOUS. 

The whole place resembles a fair. Every street is 
alive with people, burying to and fro from the depots, 
crowding the sidewalks, clustering around the hotels, 
chattering, laughing, huzzaing. From time to time, as 
new delegations arrive, music sounds, banners wave, 
and the whigs, with eager looks and hope, triumph in 
their eyes, continue to pour in by thousands from the 
remotest quarters of the Union. Clay badges hang 
conspicuously at all button-holes ; Clay portraits. Clay 
banners. Clay ribbons, Clay songs. Clay quick-steps. 
Clay marches. Clay caricatures, meet the eye in all di- 
rections. Oh, the rushing, the driving, the noise, the 
excitement ! To see, and hear, and feel, is glory 
enough for one day. 

Not only are hotels and boarding-houses of all 
grades and calibres already filled and overflowing, but 
private dwellings are thrown open with that warm- 
hearted hospitality, which has ever characterised this 
ardent and excitable population. Everybody is talk- 
ing: some about who is to be vice-president, but more 
in anticipation of Thursday's gala. The procession 
will surpass anything witnessed in this country. 

Monopoly. 

WILLIAM PALEY, 1743-1805. 

Even a child can be a monopolist. I am glad that I do not know the 
name of the little boy in the street car who monopolised three seats; 
and the tiny girl at the hotel who pounded on the piano, and whistled, 
and hummed, and chattered incessantly, monopolising the beautiful 
silence. Monopoly begins young. This selection is for kings and 
queens to commit to memory and discuss with their children. 

If you should see a flock of pigeons in a field of 
corn; and if — instead of each picking where and what 



Prose lOi 

it liked, taking just what it wanted, and no more — you 
should see ninety-nine of them gathering all they got 
into a heap, reserving nothing for themselves but the 
chaff and the refuse, keeping this heap for one, and 
that the weakest, perhaps the worst pigeon of the 
flock; sitting round and looking on, all the winter, 
whilst this one was devouring, throwing about, and 
wasting it; and if a pigeon, more hardy and hungry 
than the rest, touched a grain of the hoard, all the 
others instantly flocking upon it, tearing it to pieces ; 
if you should see this, you would see nothing more 
than what is every day practised and established among 
men. Among men you see the ninety-and-nine toiling 
and scraping together a heap of superfluities for one, 
and this too, oftentimes, the feeblest and worst of the 
whole set — a child, a woman, a madman, or a fool ; 
getting for themselves all the while but a little of the 
coarsest of the provision which their own industry pro- 
duces ; looking quietly on while they see the fruits of 
their labour spoiled; and if one of their number take 
or touch a particle of the hoard, the others joining 
against him, and hanging him for the theft. 

There must be some very important advantage to 
account for an institution which, in the view given, is 
so unnatural. 

The Freedom of the Fly. 

JOHN RUSKIN, 1819-1900. ABRIDGED FROM "ATHENA, QUEEN 
OF THE AIR." 

These sentiments are true to the fly, nature's own autocrat; the selec- 
tion is one that I have found indispensable in teaching the difference 
between self-government and autocracy. 

I BELIEVE we can nowhere find a better type of a 
perfectly free creature than in the common house-fly. 
Nor free only, but brave; and irreverent to a degree 
which I think no human republican could by any 
philosophy exalt himself to. There is no courtesy in 
him; he does not care whether it is king or clown 



102 Prose 

whom he teases; and in every step of his swift me- 
chanical march, and in every pause of his resolute ob- 
servation, there is one and the same expression of per- 
fect egotism, perfect independence and self-confidence, 
and conviction of the world's having been made for 
flies. 

Strike at him with your hand, and to him, the me- 
chanical fact and external aspect of the m^atter is, what 
to you it would be if an acre of red clay, ten feet 
thick, tore itself up from the ground in one massive 
field, hovered over you in the air for a second, and 
came crashing down with an aim. That is the exter- 
nal aspect of it ; the inner aspect, to his fly's mind, is 
of a quite natural and unimportant occurrence — one 
of the momentary conditions of his active life. He 
steps out of the way of your hand, and alights on the 
back of it. 

You cannot terrify him, nor govern him, nor per- 
suade him, nor convince him. He has his own positive 
opinion on all matters ; not an unwise one, usually, for 
his own ends; and will ask no advice of yours. He 
has no work to do — no tyrannical instinct to obey. The 
earthworm has his digging; the bee her gathering and 
building ; the spider her cunning network ; the ant her 
treasury and accounts. All these are comparatively 
slaves, or people of vulgar business. 

But your fly, free in the air, free in the chamber — 
a black incarnation of caprice, wandering, investigat- 
ing, flitting, flirting, feasting at his will, with rich 
variety of choice in feast, from the heaped sweets in 
the grocer's window to those of the butcher's back 
yard, and from the galled place on your cab-horse's 
back, to the brown spot in the road, from which, as the 
hoof disturbs him, he rises with angry republican buzz 
— what freedom is like his? 



Prose 103 



My Castles In Spain. 

GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS, 1824-1892. ABRIDGED FROM 
'TRUE AND I." 

In honour of three little boys who call their grandmamma "Annie" 
because they think that she is "just as young as the rest of the girls." 

I AM the owner of great estates. Many of them 
lie in the West ; but the greater part are in Spain. You 
may see my western possessions any evening at sun- 
set when their spires and battlements flash against the 
horizon. 

It gives me a feehng of pardonable importance, as a 
proprietor, that they are visible, to my eyes at least, 
from any part of the world in which I chance to be. 

In the city, if I get vexed and wearied, I go quietly 
up to the housetop, toward evening, and refresh myself 
with a distant prospect of my estates. It is as dear 
to me as that of Eton to the poet Gray. 

Columbus, also, had possessions in the West ; and as 
I read aloud the romantic story of his life, my voice 
quivers when I come to the point in which it is 
related that sweet odours of the land mingled with the 
sea-air, as the admiral's fleet approached the shores, 
that tropical birds flew out and fluttered around the 
ships, glittering in the sun, the gorgeous promises of 
the new country; that boughs, perhaps with blossoms 
not all decayed, floated out to welcome the strange 
wood from which the craft was hollowed. Then 
I cannot restrain myself. I think of the gorgeous 
visions I have seen before I have even undertaken 
the journey to the West, and I cry aloud to Prue, my 
wife: 

"What sun-bright birds, and gorgeous blossoms, and 
celestial odours will float out to us, my Prue, as we 
approach our Western possessions !" 

These are my Western estates, but my finest castles 
are in Spain. It is a country famously romantic, and 
my castles are all of perfect proportions, and appro- 



I04 Prose 

priately set in the most picturesque situations. I have 
never been to Spain myself, but I have naturally con- 
versed much with travellers to that country ; although, 
I must allow, without deriving from them much sub- 
stantial information about my property there. The 
wisest of them told me that there were more holders 
of real estate in Spain than in any other region he 
had ever heard of, and they are all great proprietors. 
Every one of them possesses a multitude of the state- 
liest castles. From conversation with them you easily 
gather that each one considers his own castles much 
the largest and in the loveliest positions. 

It is not easy for me to say how Iknow so much, 
as I certainly do, about my castles in Spain. The 
sun always shines upon them. They stand lofty and 
fair in a luminous, golden atmosphere, a little hazy 
and dreamy, perhaps, like the Indian summer, but in 
which no gales blow and there are no tempests. All 
the sublime mountains, and beautiful valleys, and soft 
landscapes, that I have not yet seen, are to be found in 
the grounds. They command a noble view of the Alps ; 
so fine, indeed, that I should be quite content with 
the prospect of them from the highest tower of my 
castle, and not care to go to Switzerland. 

The Nile flows through my grounds. The Desert 
lies upon their edge, and Damascus stands in my gar- 
den. I am given to understand, also, that the Par- 
thenon has been removed to my Spanish possessions. 
The Golden-Horn is my fish-preserve; my flocks of 
golden fleece are pastured on the plain of Marathon; 
and the honey of Hymettus is distilled from the 
flowers that grow in the vale of Enna — all in my Span- 
ish domains. 

Yes, and in those castles in Spain, Prue is not the 
placid, breeches-patching helpmate, with whom you are 
acquainted, but her face has a bloom which we both 
remember. She is always there what she seemed to me 
when I fell in love with her, many and many years ago. 



Prose 105 

So, when I meditate upon my Spanish castles, I see 
Prue in them as my heart saw her standing by her 
father's door. "Age cannot wither her." There is a 
magic in the Spanish air that paralyses Time. 

As the years go by, I am not conscious that my 
interest diminishes. If I see that age is subtly sifting 
his snow in the dark hair of my Prue, I smile, con- 
tented, for her hair, dark and heavy as when I first 
saw it, is all carefully treasured in my castles in Spain. 
If I feel her arm more heavily leaning upon mine, 
as we walk around the squares, I press it closely to 
my side, for I know that the easy grace of her youth's 
motion will be restored by the elixir of that Spanish 
air. If her voice sometimes falls less clearly from 
her lips, it is no less sweet to me for the music of her 
voice's prime fills, freshly as ever, those Spanish halls. 
If the light I love fades a little from her eyes, I know 
that the glances she gave me, in our youth, are the 
eternal sunshine of my castles in Spain. 

I defy time and change. Each year laid upon our 
heads, is a hand of blessing. 

Vanity at the Vicar's. 

OLIVER GOLDSMITH, 1728-1774- FROM "THE VICAR OF 
WAKEFIELD." 

Out of respect to the girls who consider it a vulgar habit to be 
fashionable. There is no religion in a stylish hat. 

Sunday was indeed a day of finery, which all my 
edicts could not restrain. How well soever I fancied 
my lectures against pride had conquered the vanity of 
my daughters, yet I found them still secretly attached 
to all their former finery : they still loved laces, 
ribands, bugles, and catgut; my wife herself retained a 
passion for her crimson paduasoy, because I formerly 
happened to say it became her. 

The first Sunday in particular their behaviour served 
to mortify me; I had desired my girls the preceding 
night to be drest early the next day; for I always 



io6 Prose 

loved to be at church a good while before the rest of 
the congregation. They punctually obeyed my direc- 
tions; but when we were to assemble in the morning 
at breakfast, down came my wife and daughters, drest 
out in all their former splendour, their hair plastered 
up with pomatum, their faces patched to taste, their 
trains bundled up in a heap behind, and rustling at 
every motion. I could not help smiling at their vanity, 
particularly that of my wife, from whom I expected 
more discretion. In this exigence, therefore, my only 
resource was to order my son, with an important air, 
to call our coach. The girls were amazed at the com- 
mand; but I repeated it with more solemnity than be- 
fore. Surely, my dear, you jest, cried my wife, we 
can walk it perfectly well : we want no coach to carry 
us now. You mistake, child, returned I, we do want 
a coach; for if we walk to church in this trim, the 
very children in the parish will hoot after us. Indeed, 
replied my wife, I always imagined that my Charles 
was fond of seeing his children neat and handsome 
about him. You may be as neat as you please, inter- 
rupted I, and I shall love you the better for it; but 
all this is not neatness, but frippery. These rufflings, 
and pinkings, and patchings, will only make us hated 
by all the wives of all our neighbours. No, my chil- 
dren, continued I, more gravely, those gowns may be 
altered into something of a plainer cut; for finery is 
very unbecoming in us, who want the means of de- 
cency. I do not know whether such flouncing and 
shredding is becoming even in the rich, if we consider, 
upon a moderate calculation, that the nakedness of the 
indigent world might be clothed from the trimmings 
of the vain. 

This remonstrance had a proper effect ; they went 
with great composure, that very instant, to change 
their dress; and the next day I had the satisfaction 
of finding my daughters, at their own request, em- 
ployed in cutting up their trains into Sunday waist- 



Prose 107 

coats for Dick and Bill, the two little ones, and, what 
was still more satisfactory, the gowns seemed im- 
proved by this curtailing. 



Bo-bo and the Roast Pig. 

CHARLES LAMB, 1775-1834- SELECTED FROM "A DISSERTA- 
TION UPON ROAST PIG." 

Lamb's "Roast Pig" never fails to call forth the interest of young 
people. Life is too sombre. Here is a dash of colour and ethics. 

The swine-herd, Ho-ti, having gone out into the 
woods one morning, as his manner was, to collect 
food for his hogs, left his cottage in the care of his 
eldest son Bo-bo, a great lubberly boy, who being fond 
of playing with fire, as younkers of his age commonly 
are, let some sparks escape into a bundle of straw, 
which kindling quickly, spread the conflagration over 
every part of their poor mansion, till it was reduced 
to ashes. Together with the cottage (a sorry ante- 
diluvian makeshift of a building, you may think it), 
what was of much more importance, a fine litter of 
new-farrowed pigs, no less than nine in number, per- 
ished. China pigs have been esteemed a luxury all 
over the East, from the remotest periods that we read 
of. Bo-bo was in the utmost consternation, as you 
may think, not so much for the sake of the tenement, 
which his father and he could easily build up again 
with a few dry branches, and the labour of an hour or 
two, at any time, as for the loss of the pigs. While 
he was thinking what he should say to his father, and 
wringing his hands over the smoking remnants of one 
of those untimely sufferers, an odour assailed his nos- 
trils, unlike any scent which he had before experi- 
enced. What could it proceed from? — not from the 
burnt cottage — he had smelt that smell before — indeed, 
this was by no means the first accident of the kind 
which had occurred through the negligence of this un- 
lucky young firebrand. Much less did it resemble that 



io8 Prose 

of any known herb, weed, or flower. A premonitory 
moistening at the same time overflowed his nether Up. 
He knew not what to think. He next stooped down to 
feel the pig, if there were any signs of Hfe in it. He 
burnt his fingers, and to cool them he applied them in 
his booby fashion to his mouth. Some of the crumbs 
of the scorched skin had come away with his fingers, 
and for the first time in his life (in the world's life 
indeed, for before him no man had known it) he tasted 
— roast pig! Again he felt and fumbled at the pig. 
It did not burn him so much now, still he licked his 
fingers from a sort of habit. The truth at length 
broke into his slow understanding, that it Vv^as the pig 
that smelt so, and the pig that tasted so delicious ; 
and, surrendering himself up to the new-born pleasure, 
he fell to tearing up whole handfuls of the scorched 
skin with the flesh next it, and was cramming it down 
his throat in his beastly fashion, when his sire entered 
amid the smoking rafters, armed with retributory 
cudgel, and, finding how afifairs stood, began to rain 
blows upon the young rogue's shoulders, as thick as hail- 
stones, which Bo-bo heeded not any more than if they 
had been flies. The tickling pleasure, which he ex- 
perienced in his lower regions, had rendered him quite 
callous to any inconveniences he might feel in those re- 
mote quarters. His father might lay on, but he could 
not beat him from his pig, till he had fairly made 
an end of it, when, becoming a little more sensible 
of his situation, something like the following dialogue 
ensued. 

''You graceless whelp, what have you got there de- 
vouring? Is it not enough that you have burnt me 
down three houses with your dog's tricks, and be 
hanged to you ! but you must be eating fire, and I 
know not what — what have you got there, I say?" 

"O father, the pig, the pig! do come and taste how 
nice the burnt pig eats." 

The ears of Ho-ti tingled with horror. He cursed 



Prose 109 

his son, and he cursed himself that ever he should 
beget a son that should eat burnt pig. 

Bo-bo, whose scent was wonderfully sharpened 
since morning, soon raked out another pig, and, fairly 
rending it asunder, thrust the lesser half by main force 
into the fists of Ho-ti, still shouting out, ''Eat, eat, 
eat the burnt pig, father, only taste — O Lord!" — with 
such-like barbarous ejaculations, cramming all the 
while as if he would choke. 

Ho-ti trembled in every joint while he grasped the 
abominable thing, wavering whether he should not put 
his son to death for an unnatural young monster, 
when, the crackling scorching his fingers, as it had 
done his son's, and applying the same remedy to them, 
he in his turn tasted some of its flavour, which, make 
what sour mouths he would for a pretence, proved not 
altogether displeasing to him. In conclusion (for the 
manuscript here is a little tedious), both father and 
son fairly sat down to the mess, and never left of¥ 
till they had despatched all that remained of the litter. 

Bo-bo was strictly enjoined not to let the secret es- 
cape, for the neighbours would certainly have stoned 
them for a couple of abominable wretches, who could 
think of improving upon the good meat which God 
had sent them. Nevertheless, strange stories got about. 
It was observed that Ho-ti's cottage was burnt down 
now more frequently than ever. Nothing but fires from 
this time forward. Some would break out in broad 
day, others in the night-time. As often as the sow far- 
rowed, so sure was the house of Ho-ti to be in a blaze ; 
and Ho-ti himself, which was the more remarkable, 
instead of chastising his son, seemed to grow more in- 
dulgent to him than ever. At length they were watched, 
the terrible mystery discovered, and father and son 
summoned to take their trial at Pekin, then an incon- 
siderable assize town. Evidence was given, the ob- 
noxious food itself produced in court, and verdict 
about to be pronounced, when the foreman of the 



1 10 Prose 

jury begged that some of the burnt pig, of which the 
culprits stood accused, might be handed into the box. 
He handled it, and they all handled it; and, burning 
their fingers, as Bo-bo and his father had done before 
them, and nature prompting to each of them the same 
remedy, against the face of all the facts, and the 
clearest charge which judge had ever given, — to the 
surprise of the whole court, townsfolk, strangers, re- 
porters, and all present, — without leaving the box, or 
any manner of consultation whatever, they brought in 
a simultaneous verdict of Not Guilty. 

The judge, who was a shrewd fellow, winked at the 
manifest iniquity of the decision; and when the court 
was dismissed, went privily and bought up all the pigs 
that could be had for love or money. In a few days 
his lordship's town-house was observed to be on fire. 
The thing took wing, and now there was nothing to be 
seen but fires in every direction. Fuel and pigs grew 
enormously dear all over the district. The insurance 
offices one and all shut up shop. People built slighter 
and slighter every day, until it was feared that the very 
science of architecture would in no long time be lost 
to the world. Thus this custom of firing houses con- 
tinued, till in process of time, says my manuscript, 
a sage arose, like our Locke, who made a discovery 
that the flesh of swine, or indeed of any other animal, 
might be cooked {burnt, as they called it) without the 
necessity of consuming a whole house to dress it. Then 
first began the rude form of a gridiron. Roasting by 
the string or spit came in a century or two later, I 
forget in whose dynasty. By such slow degrees, con- 
cludes the manuscript, do the most useful and seem- 
ingly the most obvious, arts make their way among 
mankind. 



Prose III 

The Independence of Bras-Coupe. 

(Copyrighted by Charles Scribner's Sons — in "The Cable Story Book.") 
GEORGE VV. CABLE, 1844- 

"I thought Irving's swamp was great," said Jack, aged ten, "but Mr. 
Cable's swamp beats it all to pieces." 

"Bras-Coupe," says a critical teacher, "is the strongest and most 
wonderful piece of character drawing in American writing. Imagine a 
course in literature that neglects to include it!" 

The supper was spread in the hall and in due time 
the guests were filled. Then a supper was spread in 
the big hall in the basement, belov/ stairs ; the sons 
and daughters of Ham came down like the fowls of 
the air upon a rice-field, and Bras-Coupe, throwing his 
heels about with the joyous carelessness of a smutted 
Mercury, for the first time in his life tasted the blood 
of the grape. A second, a fifth, a tenth time he tasted 
it, drinking more deeply each time, and would have 
taken it ten times more had not his bride cunningly 
concealed it. It was like stealing a tiger's kittens. 

The moment quickly came when he wanted his 
eleventh bumper. As he presented his request a silent 
shiver of consternation ran through the dark company ; 
and when, in what the prince meant as a remonstrative 
tone, he repeated the petition — splitting the table with 
his fist by way of punctuation — there ensued a hus- 
tling up staircases and a cramming into dim corners 
that left him alone at the banquet. 

Leaving the table, he strode up-stairs and into the 
chirruping and dancing of the grand salon. There was 
a halt in the cotillion and a hush of amazement like 
the shutting off of steam. Bras-Coupe strode straight 
to his master, laid his paw upon his fellow-bride- 
groom's shoulder, and, in a thunder-tone, demanded: 
"More wine!" 

The master swore a Spanish oath, lifted his hand 
and — fell, beneath the terrific fist of his slave, with 
a bang that jingled the candelabras. Dolorous stroke! 
— for the dealer of it. Given, apparently to him — 



112 Prose 

poor, tipsy savage — in self-defence, punishable, in a 
white offender, by a small fine or a few days' imprison- 
ment, it assured Bras-Coupe, because he was black, the 
death of a felon ; such was the old law. . . . 

The guests stood for an instant as if frozen, smitten 
stiff with the instant expectation of insurrection, con- 
flagration, and rapine, while, single-handed and naked- 
fisted in a room full of swords, the giant stood over his 
master, making strange signs and passes and rolling 
out, in wrathful words of his mother-tongue, what it 
needed no interpreter to tell his swarming enemies was 
a voudou curse. 

*'We are bewitched !" screamed two or three ladies, 
*'we are bewitched!" 

''Look to your wives and daughters!" shouted a 
Grandissime. 

''Shoot the black devils without mercy!" cried an- 
other, unconsciously putting into a single outflash of 
words, the whole Creole treatment of race troubles. 

With a single bound, Bras-Coupe reached the draw- 
ing-room door ; his gaudy regimentals made a red 
and blue streak down the hall; there was a rush of 
frilled and powdered gentlemen to the rear veranda, 
an avalanche of lightning with Bras-Coupe in the 
midst making for the swamp, and then all without 
was blackness of darkness and all within was a wild, 
commingled chatter of Creole, French, and Spanish 
tongues. 

While the wet lanterns swung on crazily in the trees 
along the way by which the bridegroom was to have 
borne his bride, . . . Bras-Coupe was practically de- 
claring his independence on a slight rise of ground 
hardly sixty feet in circumference and lifted scarce 
above the water in the inmost depths of the swamp. 

And amid what surroundings ! Endless colonnades 
of cypresses ; long motionless drapings of grey moss ; 
broad sheets of noisome waters, pitchy black, resting 
on bottomless ooze; cypress knees studding the sur- 



Prose 113 

face ; patches of floating green, gleaming brilliantly here 
and there; yonder, where the sunbeams wedge them- 
selves in, constellations of water-lilies, the many-hued 
iris, and a multitude of flowers that no man had 
named; here, too, serpents great and small, of won- 
derful colourings, and the dull and loathsome moc- 
casin, sliding warily off the dead tree; in dimmer re- 
cesses, the cow alligator, with her nest hard by; tur- 
tles, a century old ; owls and bats, raccoons, opossums, 
rats, centipedes and creatures of like violence ; great 
vines of beautiful leaf and scarlet fruit in deadly clus- 
ters ; maddening mosquitoes, parasitic insects, gorgeous 
dragon-flies and pretty water-lizards ; the blue heron, 
the snowy crane, the red-bird, the moss-bird, the night- 
hawk and the whip-will's-widow ; a solemn stillness 
and stifled air only now and then disturbed by the 
call or whir of the summer duck, the dismal note of 
the rain-crow, or the splash of a dead branch falling 
into the clear but lifeless bayou. 

The pack of Cuban hounds that howl from his mas- 
ter's kennels cannot snuff the trail of the stolen canoe 
that glides through the sombre blue vapours of the 
African's fastnesses. His arrows send no tell-tale 
reverberations to the distant clearing. Many a wretch 
in his native wilderness has Bras-Coupe himself, in 
palmier days, driven to just such an existence, to es- 
cape the chains and horrors of the slave-pens ; there- 
fore not a whit broods he over man's inhumanity, but, 
taking the affair as a matter of course, casts about him 
for a future. 



114 Prose 



The Evening School. 

(Copyrighted by T. Y. Crowell & Company, in "Cuore.") 
EDMONDO DE AMICIS, 1846. 

This selection is eloquent. Eloquence has developed along the line of 
Humanity. The delicious appreciation that working-men have— apprecia- 
tion of school advantages — is in great contrast with "the whining school- 
boy's" sorrowful approach to school, and will be better understood by 
any one who has taught in an evening school. 

This beautiful bit of prose is "sacred to the memory" of the pupils I 
had, myself, in an evening school. The bakers, the printers, the ice- 
men, — how they studied! But I have seen evening schools where young 
boys go to get a warm place to spend an evening; they sleep and play 
and whistle and throw papers, needing rest and amusement after the 
day's serious toil. 

The workingmen entered by twos and threes ; more 
than two hundred entered. There were boys of twelve 
and upwards; bearded men who were on their way 
from their work, carrying their books and copy-books ; 
there were carpenters, engineers with black faces, 
masons with hands white with plaster, baker's boys 
with their hair full of flour; and there was a percep- 
tible odour of varnish, hides, fish, oil, odours of all the 
various trades. There also entered a squad of artil- 
lery workmen, dressed like soldiers and headed by a 
corporal. They all filed briskly to their benches, re- 
moved the board underneath, on which we boys put 
our feet, and immediately bent their heads over their 
work. Some stepped up to the teacher to ask explana- 
tions, with their open copy-books in their hands. 

I caught sight of that young and well-dressed mas- 
ter, "the little lawyer," who had three or four work- 
ingmen clustered round his table, and was making 
corrections with his pen ; and also the lame one, who 
was laughing with a dyer who had brought him a 
copy-book all adorned with red and blue dyes. The 
doors of the schoolroom were open. I was amazed, 
when the lessons began, to see how attentive they all 
were, and how they kept their eyes fixed on their work. 
Yet the greater part of them, for fear of being late, 



Prose 1 1 5 

had not even been home to eat a mouthful of supper, 
and they were hungry. 

But the younger ones, after half an hour of school, 
were falling off the benches with sleep ; one even went 
fast asleep with his head on the bench, and the master 
waked him up by poking his ear with a pen. But the 
grov/n-up men did nothing of the sort; they kept 
awake, and listened, with their mouths wide open, to 
the lesson, without even winking; and it made a deep 
impression on me to see all those bearded men on our 
benches. We also ascended to the floor above, and 
J ran to the door of my schoolroom and saw in my 
seat a man with a big moustache and a bandaged hand, 
who might have injured himself while at work about 
some machine ; but he was trying to write, though very, 
very slowly. But what pleased me most was to behold 
in the seat of the little mason, on the very same bench 
and in the very same corner, his father, the mason, 
as huge as a giant, who sat there all coiled up, into 
a narrow space, with his chin on his fists and his eyes 
on his book, so absorbed that he hardly breathed. And 
there was no chance about it, for it was he himself who 
said to the head-master the first evening he came to 
the school : — 

*'Signor Director, do me the favour to place me in the 
seat of my hare's face." For he always calls his son so. 

My father kept me there until the end, and in the 
street we saw many women with children in their 
arms, waiting for their husbands ; and at the entrance 
a change was effected ; the husbands took the children 
in their arms, and the women made them surrender 
their books and copy-books ; and in this wise they pro- 
ceeded to their homes. For several minutes the street 
was filled with people and with noise. 

Then all grew silent, and all we could see was the 
tall and weary form of the head-master disappearing 
in the distance. 



ii6 Prose 

The Gentleman. 

GEORGE WASHINGTON DOANE, 1799-1859. 

When you have found a man, you have not far to 
go to find a gentleman. You cannot make a gold ring 
out of brass. You cannot change an Alaska crystal 
to a South African diamond. You cannot make a 
gentleman till you have first a man. To be a gentle- 
man, it will not be sufBcient to have had a grand- 
father. It does not depend upon the tailor, or the 
toilet. Blood will degenerate. Good clothes are not 
good habits. The prince Lee Boo concluded that the 
hog, in England, was the only gentleman, as being the 
only thing that did not labour. A gentleman is just a 
gentle-msin ; no more, no less ; a diamond polished that 
was first a diamond in the rough. A gentleman is 
gentle; a gentleman is modest; a gentleman is courte- 
ous ; a gentleman is generous ; a gentleman is slow to 
take ofTence, as being one that never gives it; a gen- 
tleman is slow to surmise evil, as being one that never 
thinks it ; a gentleman goes armed only in conscious- 
ness of right; a gentleman subjects his appetites; a 
gentleman refines his taste; a gentleman subdues his 
feelings; a gentleman deems every other better than 
himself. Sir Philip Sidney was never so much a gen- 
tleman — mirror though he was of England's knight- 
hood — as when, upon the field of Zutphen, as he lay 
in his own blood, he waived the draught of cold spring 
water, that was brought to quench his mortal thirst, 
in favour of a dying soldier. St. Paul described a gen- 
tleman, when he exhorted the Philippian Christians: 
"Whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are 
pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things 
are of good report, if there be any virtue, and if there 
be any praise, think on these things." 



Prose 117 



Reverence for Motherhood. 

(Copyrighted by Charles Scribner's Sons.) 
ELIZABETH B. CUSTER, 1844. FROM "THE BOY GENERAL." 

The reverence for motherhood is an instinct that 
is seldom absent from educated men. I know many in- 
stances in proof of the poet's words, "the bravest are 
the tenderest." Our officers taught the coarsest soldier, 
in time, to regard maternity as something sacred. 

It was only by the merest chance that I heard some- 
thing of the gentleness of one of our officers, whose 
brave heart ceased to beat on the battle-field of the 
Little Big Horn. In marching on a scouting expedi- 
tion one day, Captain Yates went in advance a short 
distance with his sergeant, and when his ten men 
caught up with him he found that they had shot the 
mothers of some young antelopes. Captain Yates in- 
dignantly ordered the men to return to the young, and 
each take a baby antelope in his arms and care for it 
until they reached the post. For two days the men 
marched on, bearing the tender little things, cushion- 
ing them as best they could in their folded blouses. 
One man had twins to look out for, and as a baby ante- 
lope is all legs and head, this squirming collection of 
tiny hoofs and legs stuck out from all sides as the 
soldier guided his horse as best he could with one 
hand, the arm of which encircled the bleating little 
orphans. . . . 

There were circles, perhaps fifteen feet in circum- 
ference, that I saw which were one of the mysteries of 
that strange land. When the officers told me that these 
circles were worn in the ground by the buffalo mother's 
walking round and round to protect her newly born 
and sleeping calf from the wolves at night, I listened, 
only to smile incredulously. 

I had been so often "guyed" with ridiculous stories, 
that I did not believe the tale. In time, however, I 



Ii8 Prose 

found that it was true, and I never came across these 
pathetic circles without a sentiment of deepest sympa- 
thy for the anxious mother whose vigilance kept up 
the ceaseless tramp during the long night. 

What Good Will the Monument Do? 

EDWARD EVERETT, 1 794-1865. 

A monument has a great deal to say. Our graveyards are gruesome 
and garrulous. The personal equation should be eliminated in erecting 
monuments. A monument should stand for virtues in the abstract. 
Washington, like Lincoln, had nothing of cheap local colour. "The 
Monument" was raised to those principles which he externalised. 

I AM met with the great objection, What good will 
the monument do? I beg leave, Sir, to exercise my 
birthright as a Yankee, and answer this question by 
asking two or three more, to which I believe it will 
be quite as difficult to furnish a satisfactory reply. I 
am asked. What good will the monument do? And I 
ask, what good does anything do? What is good? 
Does anything do any good ? The persons who suggest 
this objection, of course, think that there are some 
projects and undertakings that do good; and I should 
therefore like to have the idea of good explained, and 
analysed, and run out to its elements. When this is 
done, if I do not demonstrate, in about two minutes, 
that the monument does the same kind of good that 
anything else does, I shall consent that the huge blocks 
of granite, already laid, should be reducd to gravel, 
and carted off to fill up the mill-pond ; for that, I sup- 
pose, is one of the good things. Does a railroad or 
canal do good? Answer, yes. And how? It facili- 
tates intercourse, opens markets, and increases the 
wealth of the country. But what is this good for? 
Why, individuals prosper and get rich. And what good 
does that do? Is mere wealth, as an ultimate end, — 
gold and silver, without an inquiry as to their use, — 
are these a good? Certainly not. I should insult this 
audience by attempting to prove that a rich man, as 



Prose 119 

such, is neither better nor happier than a poor one. 
But, as men grow rich, they Uve better. Is there any 
good in this, stopping here? Is mere animal hfe— 
feeding, working, and sleeping like an ox— entitled to 
be called good? . 

Certainly not. But these improvements increase the 
population. And what good does that do? Where is the 
good in counting twelve millions, instead of six, of 
mere feeding, working, sleeping animals? There is, 
then, no good in the mere animal life, except that it is 
the physical basis of that higher moral existence, which 
resides in the soul, the heart, the mind, the conscience ; 
in good principles, good feelings, and the good actions 
(and the more disinterested, the more entitled to be 
called good) which flow from them. Now, Sir,_ I say 
that generous and patriotic sentiments, sentiments 
which prepare us to serve our country, to live for our 
country, to die for our country,— feelings like those 
which carried Prescott and Warren and Putnam to 
the battle-field, are good,— good, humanly speaking, 
of the highest order. It is good to have them, good 
to encourage them, good to honour them, good to com- 
memorate them; and whatever tends to animate and 
strengthen such feelings does as much right-down 
practical good as filling up low ground and building 
railroads. 

Barbarism of Our British Ancestors. 

WILLIAM PITT (THE SECOND), 1759-1806. 

The pith of this speech is that we are all descended f"'^^ b^arbarians 
if we go far enough back; it points to the foolishness of family pride 
or any other pride that makes for intolerance. Every boy and girl 
should learn this "Lest we forget." 

There was a time. Sir, which it may be fit some- 
times to revive in the remembrance of our country- 
men, when even human sacrifices are said to have been 
offered in this island. The very practice of the slave- 
trade once prevailed among us. Slaves were formerly 



I20 Prose 

an established article of our exports. Great numbers 
were exported, like cattle, from the British coast, and 
were to be seen exposed for sale in the Roman market. 
The circumstances that furnished the alleged proofs 
that Africa labours under a natural incapacity of civil- 
isation might also have been asserted of ancient and 
uncivilised Britain. Why might not some Roman 
Senator, reasoning upon the principles of some hon- 
ourable members of this House, and pointing to Brit- 
ish barbarians, have predicted with equal boldness, 
"There is a People that will never rise to civilisation ! 
— There is a People destined never to be free!" 

We, Sir, have long since emerged from barbarism, 
we have almost forgotten that we were once bar- 
barians; we are now raised to a situation which ex- 
hibits a striking contrast to every circumstance by 
which a Roman might have characterised us, and by 
which we now characterise Africa. There is, indeed, 
one thing v/anting to complete the contrast, and to 
clear us altogether from the imputation of acting, even 
to this hour, as barbarians; for we continue to this 
hour a barbarous traffic in slaves, — we continue it even 
yet, in spite of all our great and undeniable preten- 
sions to civilisation. We were once as obscure among 
the Nations of the earth, as savage in our manners, 
as debased in our morals, as degraded in our under- 
standings, as these unhappy Africans are at present. 
But, in the lapse of a long series of years, by a progres- 
sion slow, and, for a time, almost imperceptible, we 
have become rich in a variety of acquirements, fa- 
voured above measure in the gifts of Providence, un- 
rivalled in commerce, preeminent in arts, foremost in 
the pursuits of philosophy and science, and established 
in all the blessings of civil society. From all these bless- 
ings we must forever have been shut out, had there been 
any truth in those principles which some gentlemen 
have not hesitated to lay down as applicable to the 
case of Africa. Had those principles been true, we 



Prose 121 

ourselves had languished to this hour in that miserable 
state of ignorance, brutality and degradation, in which 
history proves our ancestors to have been immersed. 
Had other Nations adopted these principles in their 
conduct towards us, had other Nations applied to 
Great Britain the reasoning which some of the Sena- 
tors of this very island now apply to Africa, ages might 
have passed without our emerging from barbarism ; 
and we, who are enjoying the blessings of British 
liberty, might, at this hour, have been little superior, 
either in morals, in knowledge, or refinement, to the 
rude inhabitants of the Coast of Guinea. 

Quick Wits. 

ROGER ASCHAM, 1515-1568. 

Quick wits commonly be apt to take, unapt to keep ; 
soon hot and desirous of this and that; as cold and 
soon weary of the same again; more quick to enter 
speedily than able to pierce far; even like over-sharp 
tools, whose edges be very soon turned. Such wits de- 
light themselves in easy and pleasant studies, and never 
pass far forward in high and hard sciences. And there- 
fore the quickest wits commonly prove the best poets, 
but not the wisest orators : ready of tongue to speak 
boldly, not deep of judgment, either for good counsel 
or wise writing. Also, for manners and life, quick wits 
commonly be in purpose unconstant, light to promise 
anything, ready to forget everything, both benefit and 
injury; and thereby neither fast to friend nor fearful 
to foe; inquisitive of every trifle; not secret in great- 
est affairs ; bold with any person ; busy in every mat- 
ter, soothing such as be present, nipping any that is 
absent; of nature also, always flattering their betters, 
envying their equals, despising their inferiors ; and by 
quickness of wit very quick and ready to like none so 
well as themselves. 



122 Prose 



Appeal to the Best in Men. 

REV. WILLIAM S. RAINSFORD. 

This selection is from the words of a great preacher who has literally 
sacrificed his life in his devotion to a great cause. 

Appeal to the best in men and women, however in- 
visible the best may be, and you create, by your very 
appeal, something better. 

We are looking for God in the height or in the 
depth. We are seeking Him in some difficult place, or 
by some arduous path, and all the time, had we eyes 
to see. He is by us, in us, looking at us out of a neigh- 
bour's eyes, calling to us from our misunderstanding 
hearts. 

We cannot understand the problems of any time 
until we can get ourselves back into that time, and then 
we shall always find numbers of good men on both 
sides, and be able to understand their position. 

Let us, in the name of our redeeming God, go forth 
to discover and to save everywhere that something, 
that even "in the mud and scum of things" has never 
quite lost its power of song. 

We are going to get spiritual life in doing our duty, 
in living in true relations with our neighbour, in liv- 
ing the law of our being, and in no other way. 

The Home-Coming of Rip Van Winkle. 

WASHINGTON IRVING. 

"The Home-Coming of Rip Van Winkle" is too lengthy a story for the 
average child to memorise; but each of four pupils can easily memorise 
one fourth of it, and so make a recitation of it. Even the slowest pupil 
is tempted by this clever story to make an oral version of it. I have 
seen a teacher give the story of Rip Van Winkle to a class of beginners 
in reading, first telling the story to them and then writing their 
sentences on the blackboard as they told it back. In this way they 
learned reading and literature at the same time. The story is an 
American myth and one that we should be proud of. 

There was, as usual, a crowd of folk about the 
door of the inn, but none that Rip recollected. The 
very character of the people seemed changed. There 



Prose 123 

was a busy, bustling, disputatious tone about it, instead 
of the accustomed phlegm and drowsy tranquillity. He 
looked in vain for the sage Nicholas Vedder, with his 
broad face, double chin, and fair long pipe, uttering 
clouds of tobacco smoke, instead of idle speeches ; or 
Van Bummel, the schoolmaster, doling forth the con- 
tents of an ancient newspaper. 

In place of these, a lean, bilious-looking fellow, with 
his pocket full of hand-bills, was haranguing vehe- 
mently about rights of citizens, elections, members of 
Congress, liberty. Bunker's Hill, heroes of seventy-six 
and other words, which were a perfect Babylonish 
jargon to the bewildered Van Winkle. 

The appearance of Rip, with his long, grizzled beard, 
his rusty fowling-piece, his uncouth dress, and an army 
of women and children at his heels, soon attracted 
the attention of the tavern politicians. They crowded 
round him, eyeing him from head to foot with great 
curiosity. The orator bustled up to him, and, draw- 
ing him partly aside, inquired on which side he voted. 
Rip stared in vacant stupidity. Another short but busy 
little fellow pulled him by the arm, and, rising on tip- 
toe, inquired in his ear whether he was Federal or 
Democrat. 

Rip was equally at a loss to comprehend the ques- 
tion, when a knowing, self-important old gentleman, in 
a sharp cocked hat, made his way through the crowd, 
putting them to the right and left with his elbows as he 
passed, and planting himself before Van Winkle, with 
one arm akimbo, the other resting on his cane, his keen 
eyes and sharp hat penetrating, as it were, into his very 
soul, demanded, in an austere tone, what brought him 
to the election with a gun on his shoulder and a mob at 
his heels, and whether he meant to breed a riot in the 
village. "Alas! gentlemen," cried Rip, somewhat dis- 
mayed, "I am a poor, quiet man, a native of the place, 
and a loyal subject of the King, God bless him!" 

Here a general shout burst from the by-standers: 



124 Prose 

"A Tory ! a Tory ! a spy ! a refugee ! hustle him ! away 
with him!" It was with great difficulty that the self- 
important man in the cocked hat restored order; and, 
having assumed a tenfold austerity of brow, demanded 
again of the unknown culprit what he came there for, 
and whom he was seeking. The poor man humbly 
assured him that he meant no harm, but merely came 
there in search of some of his neighbours, who used to 
keep about the tavern. "Well, who are they? name 
them." 

Rip bethought himself a moment, and inquired, 
"Where's Nicholas Vedder?" There was a silence for 
a little while, when an old man replied, in a thin, piping 
voice, "Nicholas Vedder ! why, he is dead and gone 
these eighteen years ! There was a wooden tombstone 
in the churchyard that used to tell all about him, but 
that's rotten and gone too." "Where's Brom Dutcher?'* 
"O, he went off to the army in the beginning of the 
war. Some say he was killed at the storming of Stony 
Point; others say he was drowned in a squall at the 
foot of Anthony's Nose. I don't know ; he never came 
back again." 

''Where's Van Bummel, the schoolmaster?" "He 
went off to the wars, too ; was a great militia general, 
and is now in Congress." Rip's heart died away at 
hearing of these sad changes in his home and friends, 
and finding himself thus alone in the world. Every 
answer puzzled him, too, by treating of such enormous 
lapses of time, and of matters which he could not 
understand, — war. Congress, Stony Point. He had 
no courage to ask after any more friends, but cried 
out in despair, "Does nobody here know Rip Van 
Winkle?" 

"O, Rip Van Winkle !" exclaimed two or three. "O, 
to be sure! That's Rip Van Winkle, yonder, lean- 
ing against the tree." Rip looked, and beheld a precise 
counterpart of himself as he went up the mountain; 
apparently as lazy, and certainly as ragged. The poor 



Prose 125 

fellow was now completely confounded ; he doubted his 
own identity, and whether he was himself or another 
man. In the midst of his bewilderment, the man in the 
cocked hat demanded who he was, and what was his 
name. 

*'God knows !" exclaimed he, at his wit's end. "I'm 
not myself, — I'm somebody else. That's me yonder, 
— no, that's som.ebody else got into my shoes. I 
was myself last night, but I fell asleep on the moun- 
tain, and they've changed my gun, and everything's 
changed, and I'm changed, and I can't tell what's my 
name, or who I am !" 

^ The by-standers began now to look at each other, 
nod, wink significantly, and tap their fingers against 
their foreheads. There was a whisper, also, about se- 
curing the gun, and keeping the old fellow from do- 
ing mischief, at the very suggestion of which the self- 
important man in the cocked hat retired with some pre- 
cipitation. At this critical moment a fresh, comely 
woman pressed through the throng to get a peep at the 
gray-bearded man. She had a chubby child in her arms, 
which, frightened at his looks, began to cry. ''Hush, 
Rip !" cried she ; "hush ! the old man won't hurt you." 

The name of the child, the air of the mother, the 
tone of her voice, all awakened a train of recollections 
in his mind. "What is your name, my good woman?" 
asked, he. "Judith Gardenier." "And your father's 
name?" "Ah, poor man! Rip Van Winkle was his 
name, but it's twenty years since he went away from 
home with his gun, and has never been heard of since ; 
his dog came home without him ; but whether he shot 
himself, or was carried away by the Indians, nobody 
can tell. I was then but a little girl." 

Rip had but one question more to ask, but he put 
it with a faltering voice: "Where's your mother?" 
"O, she too had died but a short time since ; she broke 
a blood-vessel in a fit of passion at a New England 
peddler." There was a drop of comfort, at least, in 



126 Prose 

this intelligence. The honest man could contain himself 
no longer. He caught his daughter and her child in his 
arms. "I am your father!" cried he. ''Young Rip 
Van Winkle once, old Rip Van Winkle now ! Does 
nobody know poor Rip Van Winkle ?" 

All stood amazed, until an old woman, tottering out 
from among the crowd, put her hand to her brow, and 
peering under it in his face for a moment, exclaimed, 
*'Sure enough! it is Rip Van Winkle! it is himself. 
Welcome home again, old neighbour. Why, where have 
you been these twenty long years?" Rip's story was 
soon told, for the whole twenty years had been to him 
but as one night. 

To make a long story short, the company broke up, 
and returned to the more important concerns of the 
election. Rip's daughter took him home to live with 
her. She had a snug, well-furnished house, and a stout 
cheery farmer for a husband, whom Rip recollected as 
one of the urchins that used to climb upon his back. 
Rip now resumed his old walks and habits. He soon 
found many of his former cronies, though all rather 
worse for the wear and tear of time ; but preferred 
making friends among the rising generation, with 
whom he soon grew into great favour. 



Brutus* Speech on the Death of Caesar. 

WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE, 1564-1616. 

''Romans, Countrymen, and Lovers, — Hear me, for 
my cause; and be silent, that you may hear. Believe 
me, for mine honour ; and have respect for mine hon- 
our, that you may believe. 

"Censure me, in your wisdom; and awake your 
senses, that you may the better judge. 

"If there be any in this assembly, any dear friend 
of Caesar, to him I say, that Brutus' love for Caesar 
was no less than his. If then, that friend demand, why 



Prose 127 

Brutus rose against Caesar, this is my answer ; not that 
I love Csesar less, but that I love Rome more. 

"Had you rather Csesar were living, and die all 
slaves, than that Caesar were dead, to live all freemen? 

**As Caesar loved me, I weep for him ; as he was for- 
tunate, I rejoice at it; as he was valiant, I honour 
him ; but as he was ambitious, I slew him. 

"There are tears for his love, joy for his fortune, 
honour for his valour, and death for his ambition. 

"Who's here so base, that he would be a bondman? 

"If any, speak; for him have I offended. 

"Who's here so rude, that he would not be a Roman ? 
If any, speak; for him have I offended. 

"Who's here so vile, that he will not love his coun- 
try? If any, speak; for him have I offended. 

"I pause for a reply. . . . 

"None ? Then none have I offended. 

"I have done no more to Caesar, than you should do 
to Brutus. . . . And as I slew my best lover for the 
good of Rome, I reserve the same dagger for myself, 
whenever it shall please my country to need my death." 



The Duel of Nations. 

CHARLES SUMNER, 1819-1881. IN. "THE WAR SYSTEM OF 
THE COMMONWEALTH." 

Why should we go to a book to settle the character of a war, when 
we can judge of it by its fruits? — William Lloyd Garrison. 

The tiger shell lay down with the buffler. — G. W. Cable (in 
"Posson Jones"). 

"Sumner is dead," we hear; but his words are very much alive. 
Peace parties are increasing; boys are still debating whether the tiger 
and the buffalo shall be friendly and help each other to live. 

Far away on some distant pathway of the ocean, 
two ships approach each other, with white canvas 
broadly spread to receive the flying gale. They are 
proudly built. All of human art has been lavished in 
their graceful proportions and compacted sides, while 
in dimensions they look like floating happy islands 
of the sea. A numerous crev/, with costly appliances 



128 Prose 

of comfort, hives in their secure shelter. Surely 
these two travellers must meet in joy and friendship; 
the flag at mast-head will give the signal of fellowship; 
the delighted sailors will cluster in rigging and on 
yard-arms to look each other in the face, while ex- 
hilarating voices mingle in accents of gladness uncon- 
trollable. 

Alas! alas! it is not so. Not as brothers, not as 
friends, not as wayfarers of the common ocean do they 
come together, but as enemies. The closing vessels now 
bristle fiercely with death-dealing implements. On their 
spacious decks, aloft on all their masts, flashes the 
deadly musketry. From their sides spout cataracts 
of flame, amidst the pealing thunders of a fatal artil- 
lery. They who had escaped "the dreadful touch of 
merchant-marring rocks," who on their long and soli- 
tary way had sped unharmed by wind or wave, whom 
the hurricane had spared, in whose favour storms and 
seas had suspended for a time their unmitigable war, 
now at last fall by the hand of each other. From both 
ships the same spectacle of horror greets us. On decks 
reddened with blood, murders break forth anew, and 
concentrate their rage. Each is a swimming Mountain 
of Crucifixion. At length these vessels — such pageants 
of the sea, such marvels of art, once so stately, but 
now rudely shattered by cannon-ball, with shivered 
masts and ragged sails — exist only as unmanageable 
wrecks, weltering on the uncertain wave, whose tran- 
sient lull of peace is their sole safety. In amazement 
at this strange, unnatural contest, away from country 
and home, where there is no country or home to de- 
fend, we ask again. Wherefore this dismal scene? 
Again the melancholy, but truthful, answer promptly 
comes, that this is the established method of determin- 
ing justice between nations. 

Yes ! the barbarous, brutal relations which once pre- 
vailed between individuals, which prevailed still longer 
between communities composing nations, are not yet 



Prose 129 

banished from the great Christian Commonwealth. 
Rehgion, reason, humanity, first penetrate the indi- 
vidual, next larger bodies, and widening in influence 
slowly leaven nations. Thus, while condemning the 
bloody contests of individuals,* also of towns, counties, 
principalities, provinces, and denying to all these the 
right of waging war, or appeal to Trial by Battle, we 
continue to uphold an atrocious system of folly and 
crime which is to nations what the system of petty wars 
was to towns, counties, principalities, provinces, also 
what the duel was to individuals ; for War is the Duel 
of Nations. 



The Declaration of Independence. 

THOMAS JEFFERSON, 1743-1826. 

A Declaration by the Representatives of the United States of America 
in Congress assembled, July 4, 1776. 

By the time I was nine years old my mind lightly turned to books 
of history. I memorised much of the Declaration of Independence, and 
thank God! have never been able since to get away from the fact that 
"all men are created equal;" that they are endowed by their Creator 
with "certain inalienable rights," and that "among these are life, liberty, 
and the pursuit of happiness." — George W. Cable. 

Is the Declaration of Independence remembered on the national 
holiday established especially to commemorate it ? Or is there a tendency 
in America to ignore the great past? — E. H. 

When, in the course of human events, it becomes 
necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands 
which have connected them with another, and to as- 
sume, among the powers of the earth, the separate and 
equal station to which the laws of nature and of na- 
ture's God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions 
of mankind requires that they should declare the causes 
which impel them to the separation. 

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men 
are created equal; that they are endowed by their 
Creator v\^ith certain unalienable rights; that among 
these, are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. 
That, to secure these rights, governments are instituted 



I30 Prose 

among men, deriving their just powers from the con- 
sent of the governed; that, whenever any form of 
government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the 
right of the people to alter or to abolish it, and to in- 
stitute a new government, laying its foundation on such 
principles, and organising its powers in such form, as 
to them shall seem most likely to effect their safety 
and happiness. Prudence, indeed, will dictate that gov- 
ernments long established, should not be changed 
for light and transient causes ; and, accordingly, all ex- 
perience hath shown, that mankind are more disposed 
to suffer, while evils are sufferable, than to right them- 
selves by abolishing the forms to which they are 
accustomed. But, when a long train of abuses and 
usurpations, pursuing invariably the same object, 
evinces a design to reduce them under absolute des- 
potism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off 
such government, and to provide new guards for their 
future security. Such has been the patient sufferance 
of these colonies, and such is now the necessity which 
constrains them to alter their former systems of gov- 
ernment. The history of the present King of Great 
Britain is a history of repeated injuries and usurpa- 
tions, all having, in direct object, the establishment of 
an absolute tyranny over these States. To prove this, 
let facts be submitted to a candid world: — 

He has refused his assent to laws the most whole- 
some and necessary for the public good. 

He has forbidden his governors to pass laws of im- 
mediate and pressing importance, unless suspended in 
their operation till his assent should be obtained ; and, 
when so suspended, he has utterly neglected to attend 
to them. 

He has refused to pass other laws for the accommo- 
dation of large districts of people, unless those peo- 
ple would relinquish the right of representation in the 
legislature ; a right inestimable to them, and formidable 
to tyrants only. 



Prose 1 3 1 

He has called together legislative bodies at places 
unusual, uncomfortable, and distant from the deposi- 
tory of their public records, for the sole purpose of 
fatiguing them into compliance with his measures. 

He has dissolved representative houses repeatedly, 
for opposing, with manly firmness, his invasions on the 
rights of the people. 

He has refused, for a long time after such dissolu- 
tions, to cause others to be elected ; whereby the legis- 
lative powers, incapable of annihilation, have returned 
to the people at large for their exercise; the state re- 
rpaining, in the mean time, exposed to all the danger 
of invasion from without, and convulsions within. 

He has endeavoured to prevent the population of 
these States ; for that purpose, obstructing the laws for 
naturalisation of foreigners, refusing to pass others to 
encourage their migration hither, and raising the con- 
ditions of new appropriations of lands. 

He has obstructed the administration of justice, by 
refusing his assent to laws for establishing judiciary 
powers. 

He has made judges dependent on his will alone, 
for the tenure of their offices, and the amount and 
payment of their salaries. 

He has erected a multitude of new offices, and sent 
hither swarms of officers to harass our people, and 
eat out their substance. 

He has kept among us, in time of peace, standing 
armies, without the consent of our legislatures. 

He has affected to render the military independent 
of, and superior to, the civil power. 

He has combined, with others, to subject us to a 
jurisdiction foreign to our Constitution, and un- 
acknowledged by our laws; giving his assent to their 
acts of pretended legislation: 

For quartering large bodies of armed troops among 
us: 

For protecting them by a mock trial, from punish- 



132 Prose 

ment, for any murders which they should commit on 
the inhabitants of these States : 

For cutting off our trade with all parts of the world : 

For imposing taxes on us without our consent : 

For depriving us, in many cases, of the benefit of 
trial by jury: 

For transporting us beyond seas to be tried for pre- 
tended offences. 

For abolishing the free system of English laws in a 
neighbouring province, establishing therein an arbi- 
trary government, and enlarging its boundaries, so as 
to render it at once an example and fit instrument for 
introducing the same absolute rule into these colonies : 

For taking away our charters, abolishing our most 
valuable laws, and altering, fundamentally, the powers 
of our governments : 

For suspending our own legislatures, and declaring 
themselves invested with power to legislate for us in 
all cases whatsoever. 

He has abdicated government here, by declaring us 
out of his protection, and waging war against us. 

He has plundered our seas, ravaged our coasts, burnt 
our towns, and destroyed the lives of our people. 

He is, at this time, transporting large armies of 
foreign mercenaries to complete the works of death, 
desolation, and tyranny, already begun, with circum- 
stances of cruelty and perfidy scarcely paralleled in 
the most barbarous ages, and totally unworthy the 
head of a civilised nation. 

He has constrained our fellow -citizens, taken cap- 
tive on the high seas, to bear arms against their coun- 
try, to become the executioners of their friends and 
brethren, or to fall themselves by their hands. 

He has excited domestic insurrections amongst us, 
and has endeavoured to bring on the inhabitants of our 
frontiers, the merciless Indian savages, whose known 
rule of warfare is an undistinguished destruction of 
all ages, sexes, and conditions. 



Prose 133 

In every stage of these oppressions, we have peti- 
tioned for redress, in the most humble terms ; our re- 
peated petitions have been answered only by repeated 
injury. A prince, whose character is thus marked by 
every act which may defile a tyrant, is imfit to be the 
ruler of a free people. 

Nor have we been wanting in attention to our Brit- 
ish brethren. We have warned them, from time to 
time, of attempts made by their legislature to extend 
an unwarrantable jurisdiction over us. We have re- 
minded them of the circumstances of our emigration 
and settlement here. We have appealed to their na- 
tive justice and magnanimity, and we have conjured 
them, by the ties of our common kindred, to disavow 
these usurpations, which would inevitably interrupt 
our connections and correspondence. They, too, have 
been deaf to the voice of justice and consanguinity. 
We must, therefore, acquiesce in the necessity which 
denounces our separation, and hold them, as we hold 
the rest of mankind, enemies in war, in peace, friends. 

We, therefore, the representatives of the United 
States of America, in general Congress assembled, ap- 
pealing to the Supreme Judge of the world for the 
rectitude of our intentions, do, in the name, and by the 
authority of the good people of these colonies, solemnly 
publish and declare, that these united colonies are, and 
of right ought to be, free and independent states ; that 
they are absolved from all allegiance to the British 
Crown, and that all political connection between them 
and the state of Great Britain is, and ought to be, 
totally dissolved; and that, as free and independent 
states, they have full power to levy war, conclude 
peace, contract alliances, establish commerce, and to 
do all other acts and things which independent states 
may of right do. And, for the support of this declara- 
tion, with a firm reliance on the protection of Divine 
Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our 
lives, our fortunes, and our sacred honour. 



134 Prose 



America Unconquerable. 

WILLIAM PITT, EARL OF CHATHAM, 1 708-1 778. ON THE 
"ADDRESS OF THANKS TO THE KING," NOVEMBER, 1777. 

The Secretary stood alone !—Grattan. 

This, my Lords, is a perilous and tremendous mo- 
ment. It is no time for adulation. The smoothness of 
flattery cannot save us, in this awful and rugged crisis. 
It is now necessary to instruct the Throne, in the lan- 
guage of Truth. We must, if possible, dispel the de- 
lusion and darkness which envelop it; and display in 
its full danger and genuine colours, the ruin which is 
brought to our doors. Can Ministers still presume to 
expect support in their infatuation? Can Parliament 
be so dead to its dignity and duty as to be thus deluded 
into the loss of the one, and the violation of the other; 
— as to give an unlimited support to measures which 
have heaped disgrace and misfortune upon us; meas- 
ures which have reduced this late flourishing empire to 
ruin and contempt? But yesterday, and England 
might have stood against the zvorld: nozv none so poor 
to do her reverence! France, my Lords, has insulted 
you. She has encouraged and sustained America; 
and, whether America be wrong or right, the dig- 
nity of this country ought to spurn at the officious 
insult of French interference. Can even our Ministers 
sustain a more humiliating disgrace ? Do they dare to 
resent it ? Do they presume even to hint a vindication 
of their honour, and the dignity of the State, by re- 
quiring the dismissal of the plenipotentiaries of 
America ? The People, whom they affected to call con- 
temptible rebels, but whose growing power has at last 
obtained the name of enemies, — the People with whom 
they have engaged this country in war, and against 
whom they now command our implicit support in every 
measure of desperate hostility, — this People, despised 
as rebels, or acknowledged as enemies, are abetted 



Prose 135 

against you, supplied with every military store, their 
interests consulted, and their Ambassadors entertained, 
by your inveterate enemy, — and our Ministers dare not 
interpose with dignity or effect! 

My Lords, this ruinous and ignominious situation, 
where we cannot act with success nor suffer with 
honour, calls upon us to remonstrate in the strongest 
and loudest language of truth, to rescue the ear of 
Majesty from the delusions which surround it. You 
cannot, I venture to say it, you cannot conquer 
America. What is your present situation there? We 
do not know the worst; but we know that in three 
campaigns we have done nothing and suffered much. 
You may swell every expense, and strain every effort, 
still more extravagantly; accumulate every assistance 
you can beg or borrow ; traffic and barter with every 
pitiful German Prince, that sells and sends his sub- 
jects to the shambles of a foreign country: your ef- 
forts are forever vain and impotent, — doubly so from 
this mercenary aid on which you rely ; for it irritates 
to an incurable resentment the minds of your enemies, 
to overrun them with the sordid sons of rapine and of 
plunder, devoting them and their possessions to the 
rapacity of hireling cruelty ! If I were an American, 
as I am an Englishman, while a foreign troop was 
landed in my country, I never would lay down my 
arms ! — never ! never ! never ! 



Liberty and Union, One and Inseparable. 

DANIEL WEBSTER, 1782-1852. 

It was Daniel Webster who educated his countrymen in Union as well 
as Independence. — E. H. 

I PROFESS, sir, in my career hitherto, to have kept 
steadily in view the prosperity and honour of the whole 
country, and the preservation of our Federal Union. 
It is to that Union we owe our safety at home, and our 
consideration and dignity abroad. It is to that Union 



136 Prose 

we are chiefly indebted for whatever makes us most 
proud of our country. That Union we reached only by 
the discipHne of our virtues, in the severe school of 
adversity. It had its origin in the necessities of dis- 
ordered finance, prostrate commerce, and ruined credit. 
Under its benign influences, these great interests im- 
mediately awoke, as from the dead, and sprang forth 
with newness of life. Every year of its duration has 
teemed with fresh proofs of its utility and its blessings ; 
and although our territory has stretched out wider and 
wider, and our population spread farther and farther, 
they have not outrun its protection or its benefits. It 
has been to us all a copious foundation of national, so- 
cial, personal happiness. I have not allowed myself, sir, 
to look beyond the Union, to see what might lie hidden 
in the dark recess behind. I have not coolly weighed 
the chances of preserving liberty when the bonds that 
unite us together shall be broken asunder. I have not 
accustomed myself to hang over the precipice of dis- 
union, to see whether, with my short sight, I can 
fathom the depth of the abyss below ; nor could I re- 
gard him as a safe counselor in the affairs of this Gov- 
ernment whose thoughts should be mainly bent on con- 
sidering, not how the Union should be best preserved, 
but how tolerable might be the condition of the peo- 
ple when it shall be broken up and destroyed. 

While the Union lasts, we have high, exciting, grati- 
fying prospects spread out before us, for us and for 
our children. Beyond that I seek not to penetrate the 
veil. God grant that, in my day at least, that curtain 
may not rise ! God grant that on my vision never may 
be opened what lies behind! When my eyes shall be 
turned to behold, for the last time, the sun in Heaven, 
may I not see him shining on the broken and dishon- 
oured fragments of a once glorious Union ; on States, 
severed, discordant, belligerent: on a land rent with 
civil feuds, or drenched, it may be, in fraternal blood ! 
Let their last feeble and lingering glance, rather, be- 



Prose 137 

hold the gorgeous ensign of the RepubHc, now known 
and honoured throughout the earth, still full high ad- 
vanced, its arms and trophies streaming in their origi- 
nal lustre, not a stripe erased or polluted, nor a single 
star obscured, — bearing, for its motto, no such miser- 
able interrogatory as "What is all this worth?" — nor 
those other words of delusion and folly, ''Liberty first 
and Union afterwards," — but everywhere, spread all 
over in characters of living light, blazing on all its 
ample folds, as they float over the sea and over the 
land, and in every wind under the whole heavens, that 
other sentiment, dear to every true American heart — 
Liberty and Union, now and forever, one and insepa- 
rable ! 

The Sanctity of Treaties. 

FISHER AMES, 1758-1808. 

In "The Boy's Town" even a small boy cannot break his promise, 
Howells tells us. 

We are either to execute this treaty, or to break our 
faith. To expatiate on the value of public faith may 
pass with some men for mere declamation; to such 
men I have nothing to say. To others, I will urge, can 
any circumstance mark upon a People more debase- 
ment? Can anything tend more to make men think 
themselves mean, — or to degrade to a lower point their 
estimation of virtue and their standard of action? It 
would not merely demoralise mankind; it tends to 
break all the ligaments of society ; to dissolve that mys- 
terious charm which attracts individuals to the Nation ; 
and to inspire in its stead, a repulsive sense of shame 
and disgust. 

What is patriotism? Is it a narrow afifection for 
the spot where a man was born? Are the very clods 
where we tread entitled to this ardent preference, be- 
cause they are greener ? No, Sir ; this is not the char- 
acter of the virtue. It soars higher for its objects. It 
is an extended self-love, mingling with all the enjoy- 
ments of life, and twining itself with the minutest fila- 



138 Prose 

ments of the heart. It is thus we obey the laws of so- 
ciety, because they are the laws of virtue. In their 
authority we see, not the array of force and terror, but 
the venerable image of our country's honour. Every 
good citizen makes that honour his own and cherishes 
it, not only as precious, but as sacred. He is willing 
to risk his life in its defence, and is conscious that 
he gains protection while he gives it; for what rights 
of a citizen will be deemed inviolable, when a State 
renounces the principles that constitute their security? 
Or, if his life should be invaded, what would its en- 
joyments be, in a country odious in the eyes of stran- 
gers, and dishonoured in his own? Could he look 
with affection and veneration to such a country, as 
his parent ? The sense of having one would die within 
him; he would blush for his patriotism, if he retained 
any, — and justly, for it would be a vice. He would be 
a banished man in his native land. I see no excep- 
tion to the respect that is paid among Nations to the 
law of good faith. It is the philosophy of politics, 
the religion of Governments. It is observed by bar- 
barians. A whiff of tobacco-smoke, or a string of 
beads, gives not merely binding force, but sanctity to 
treaties. Even in Algiers, a truce may be bought for 
money; but, when ratified, even Algiers is too wise, 
or too just, to disown and annul its obligation. 

Compensation. 

(Permission of Houghton, Mifflin & Company.) 
R. W. EMERSON, 1803-1882. 

You cannot do wrong without suffering wrong. "No 
man had ever a point of pride that was not injurious 
to him," said Burke. The exclusive in fashionable 
life does not see that he excludes himself from en- 
joyment, in the attempt to appropriate it. The ex- 
clusionist in religion does not see that he shuts the 
door of heaven on himself, in striving to shut out 



Prose 139 

others. Treat men as pawns and nine-pins and you 
shall suffer as well as they. If you leave out their 
heart, you shall lose your own. The senses would 
make things of all persons; of women, of children, 
of the poor. The vulgar proverb, 'T will get it from 
his purse or get it from his skin," is sound philosophy. 
All infractions of love and equity in our social 
relations are speedily punished. They are punished 
by Fear. Whilst I stand in simple relations to my 
fellow-man, I have no displeasure in meeting him. 
We meet as water meets water, or as two currents of 
air mix with perfect diffusion and interpenetration of 
nature. But as soon as there is any departure from 
simplicity and attempt at halfness, or good for me 
that is not good for him, my neighbour feels the 
wrong; he shrinks from me as far as I have shrunk 
from him ; his eyes no longer seek mine ; there is war 
between us ; there is hate in him and fear in me. 

Abolition. 

(Permission of Houghton, Mifflin & Company.) 

WILLIAM LLOYD GARRISON, 1804-1879- FROM 'THE LIFE OF 
^^"^"^ WILLIAM LLOYD GARRISON, BY HIS SONS." 

Slavery is abolished and "abolition" is a thing of the past; but there 
are hundreds of thousands of little children slaving in mills and sweat- 
shops, calling for a new abolition and a new Garrison. 

Abolitionism is not a hobby, got up for personal or 
associated aggrandisement; it is not a political ruse; 
it is not a spasm of sympathy, which lasts but for a 
moment, leaving the system weak and worn ; it is not 
a fever of enthusiasm; it is not the fruit of fanati- 
cism ; it is not a spirit of faction. It is of heaven, not 
of men. It lives in the heart as a vital principle. It 
is an essential part of Christianity, and aside from it 
there can be no humanity. Its scope is not confined 
to the slave population of the United States, but em- 
braces mankind. Opposition cannot weary it, force 
cannot put it down, fire cannot consume it. 



PART IV. 

Lad and Lassie 



PART IV 



Examination Day in the Land of the 
Tomtoddies. 

CHARLES KINGSLEY, 1819-1875- 

Are you studying "to pass examination," or because study is delightful? 
I remember a boy who used to say, "I don't know that, it isn't in my 
grade," whenever he was asked a question. And I have seen six-year- 
old babies cry because they could not pass written examinations. This 
selection should serve as a basis of debate for every graduating class in 
normal schools. 

The Isle of Tomtoddies, all heads and no bodies ! 

And when Tom came near it, he heard such a 
grumbling and grunting and growling and wailing 
and weeping and whining that he thought people 
must be ringing little pigs, or cropping puppies' ears, 
or drowning kittens; but when he came nearer still, 
he began to hear words among the noise ; which was 
the Tomtoddies' song which they sing morning and 
evening, and all night too, to their great idol Exami- 
nation — 

"I can't learn my lesson : the examiner's com- 
ing!" 

And that was the only song which they knew. 

And when Tom got on shore the first thing he saw 
was a great pillar, on one side of which was inscribed, 
"Playthings not allowed here ;" at which he was so 
shocked that he would not stay to see what was writ- 
ten on the other side. Then he looked round for the 
people of the island : but instead of men, women, and 
children, he found nothing but turnips and radishes, 
beet and mangold wurzel, without a single green leaf 
among them, and half of them burst and decayed, 

143 



144 Prose 

with toad-stools growing out of them. Those which 
were left began crying to Tom, in half a dozen differ- 
ent languages at once, and all of them badly spoken, 
'T can't learn my lesson ; do come and help me ! And 
one cried, "Can you show me how to extract this 
square root?" 

And another, "Can you tell me the distance be- 
tween A Lyrse and B Camelopareldis ?" 

And another, "What is the latitude and longitude 
of Snooksville, in Noman's County, Oregon, U. S.?" 

And another, "What was the name of Mutius 
Scaevola's thirteenth cousin's grandmother's maid's 
cat ?" 

And another, "How long would it take a school- 
inspector of average activity to tumble head over 
heels from London to York?" 

And another, "Can you tell me the name of a place 
that nobody ever heard of, where nothing ever hap- 
pened, in a country which has not been discovered 
yet?" 

And another, "Can you show me how to correct 
this hopelessly corrupt passage of Graidiocolosyrtus 
Tabenniticus, on the cause why crocodiles have no 
tongues ?" 

And so on, and so on, and so on, till one would have 
thought they were all trying for tide-waiters' places, or 
cornetcies in the heavy dragoons. 

"And what good on earth will it do you if I did tell 
you?" quoth Tom. 

Well, they didn't know that : all they knew was the 
examiner was coming. 

Then Tom stumbled on the hugest and softest nim- 
ble-come-quick turnip you ever saw filling a hole in a 
crop of swedes, and it cried to him, "Can you tell me 
anything at all about anything you like?" 

"About what?" says Tom. 

"About anything you like; for as fast as I learn 
things I forget them again. So my mam^ma says that 



Prose 



145 



my intellect is not adapted for methodic science, and 
says that I must go in for general information." 

Tom told him that he did not know general infor- 
mation nor any officers in the army; only he had a 
friend once that went for a drummer; but he could 
tell him a great many strange things which he had 
seen in his travels. 

So he told him prettily enough, while the poor tur- 
nip listened very carefully; and the more he listened, 
tlie more he forgot, and the more water ran out of 
him. 

Tom thought he was crying: but it was only his 
poor brains running away, from being worked so 
hard ; and as Tom talked the unhappy turnip streamed 
down all over with juice, and split and shrank till 
nothing was left of him but rind and water; whereat 
Tom ran away in a fright, for he thought he might 
be taken up for killing the turnip. 

But on the contrary, the turnip's parents were highly 
delighted, and considered him a saint and a martyr, 
and put up a long inscription over his tomb about his 
wonderful talents, early development, and unparal- 
leled precocity. ^ Were they not a foolish couple ? But 
there was a still more foolish couple next to them, 
who were beating a wretched little radish, no bigger 
than my thumb, for sullenness and obstinacy and wil- 
ful stupidity, and never knew that the reason why it 
couldn't learn or hardly even speak was, that there 
was a great worm inside it eating out all its brains. 
But even they are no foolisher than some hundred 
score of papas and mammas, who fetch the rod when 
they ought to fetch a new toy, and send to the dark 
cupboard instead of to the doctor. 

Tom was so puzzled and frightened with all he saw, 
that he was longing to ask the meaning of it ; and at 
last he stumbled over a respectable old stick lying 
half-covered with earth. But a very stout and worthy 
stick it was, for it belonged to good Roger Ascham in 



146 Prose 

old time, and had carved on its head King Edward 
the Sixth, with the Bible in his hand. 

''You see," said the stick, "these were as pretty lit- 
tle children once as you could wish to see, and might 
have been so still if they had been only left to grow 
up like human beings, and then handed over to me; 
but their foolish fathers and mothers, instead of let- 
ting them pick flowers, and make dirt-pies, and see 
birds' nests, and dance round the gooseberry bush, 
as little children should, kept them alv/ays at lessons, 
working, working, working, learning week-day les- 
sons all week-days, and Sunday lessons all Sunday, and 
weekly examinations every Saturday, and monthly 
examinations every month, and yearly examinations 
every year, everything seven times over, as if once 
was not enough, and enough as good as a feast — till 
their brains grew big, and their bodies grew small, 
and they were all changed into turnips, with little but 
water inside; and still their foolish parents actually 
pick the leaves off them as fast as they grow, lest they 
should have anything green about them." 

"Ah!" said Tom, "if dear Mrs. Do-as-you-would- 
be-done-by knew of it she would send them a lot of 
tops, and balls, and marbles, and ninepins, and make 
them all as jolly as sand-boys." 

"It would be of no use," said the stick. "They can't 
play now, if they tried. Don't you see how their legs 
have turned to roots and grown into the ground, by 
never taking any exercise, but sapping and moping 
always in the same place? But here comes the Ex- 
aminer-of-all-Examiners. So you had better get 
away, I warn you, or he will examine you and your 
dog into the bargain, and set him to examine all the 
other dogs, and you to examine all the other water- 
babies. There is no escaping out of his hands, for his 
nose is nine thousand miles long, and can go down 
chimneys and through keyholes, upstairs, downstairs, 
in my lady's chamber, examining all little boys, and the 



Prose 147 

little boys' tutors likewise. But when he is thrashed 
— so Mrs. Be-done-by-as-you-did has promised me — 
I shall have the thrashing of him: and if I don't lay 
it on with a will it's a pity." 

Tom went off ; but rather slowly and surlily ; for he 
was somewhat minded to face this same Examiner-of- 
all-Examiners, who came striding among the poor 
turnips, binding heavy burdens and grievous to be 
borne, and laying them on little children's shoulders, 
like the Scribes and Pharisees of old, and not touch- 
ing the same with one of his fingers ; for he had plenty 
of money and a fine house to live in, and so forth; 
which was more than the poor little turnips had. 

But when he got near, he looked so big and burly 
and dictatorial, and shouted so loud to Tom, to come 
and be examined, that Tom ran for his life, and the 
dog too. And really it was time; for the poor tur- 
nips, in their hurry and fright, crammed themselves 
so fast to be ready for the Examiner, that they burst 
and popped by dozens all round him, till the place 
sounded like Aldershot on a field-day, and Tom 
thought he should be blown into the air, dog and all. 

A Russian Bath. 

STEVENS. 

Having secured my room, I mounted a drosky and 
hurried to a bath. Riding out to the suburbs, the 
drosky boy stopped at a large wooden building, pour- 
ing forth steam from every chink and crevice. At 
the entrance stood several half-naked men, one of 
whom led me to an apartment to undress, and then con- 
ducted me to another, in one end of which were a 
furnace and apparatus for generating steam. I was 
then familiar with the Turkish bath, but the worst I 
had known was like the breath of the gentle south 
wind compared with the heat of this apartment. The 
operator made me stand in the middle of the floor, 



148 Prose 

opened the upper door of the stove, and dashed into 
it a bucketful of water, which sent forth volumes of 
steam like a thick fog into every part of the room; 
he then laid me down on a platform about three feet 
high, and rubbed my body with a mop dipped in soap 
and hot water; then he raised me up, and deluged me 
with hot water, pouring several tubfuls on my head; 
he then laid me down again, and scrubbed me with 
soap and water from my head to my heels, long 
enough, if the thing were possible, to make a blacka- 
mour white ; he then gave me another sousing with 
hot water, and another scrubbing with pure water, 
and then conducted me up a flight of steps to a high 
platform, stretched me out on a bench within a few 
feet of the ceiling, and commenced whipping me with 
twigs of birch, with the leaves on them, dipped in hot 
water. It was hot as an oven where he laid me down on 
the bench ; the vapour, which almost suffocated me be- 
low, ascended to the ceiling, and, finding no avenue of 
escape, gathered round my devoted body, fairly scald- 
ing and blistering me ; and when I removed my hands 
from my face, I felt as if I had carried away my 
whole profile. I tried to hold out to the end, but I 
was burning, scorching, and consuming. In agony I 
cried out to my tormentor to let me up.; but he did not 
understand me, or was loath to let me go, and kept 
thrashing me with the bunch of twigs, until, perfectly 
desperate, I sprang off the bench, tumbled him over, 
and descended to the floor. Snow ; snow ; a region of 
eternal snow, seemed paradise, but my tormentor had 
not done with me ; and, as I was hurrying to the door, 
he dashed over me a tub of cold water. I was so hot 
that it seemed to hiss as it touched me ; he came at me 
with another, and that moment I could imagine, 
what had always seemed a travelleri? story, the high 
satisfaction and perfect safety with which the Rus- 
sian in mid-winter rushes from his hot bath and rolls 
himself in the snow. The grim features of my tor- 



Prose 149 

mentor relaxed as he saw the change that came over 
me. I withdrew to my dressing-room ; dozed an hour 
on the settee, and went out a new man. In half an 
hour I stood in the palace of the Czars, within the 
walls of the Kremlin. 

The Stream That Was Made to Work. 

FROM THE FRENCH OF ALPHONSE KARR. 

"What is the use of anything that is 'merely beautifur?" If Niagara 
won't "work" kill it. If the blue sky won't work, give it a black mark. 
I know a stream that meanders among ferns and flowers and is cool and 
clear Then it enters a paper mill and works. It comes out dirty and 
smelly. Is all labour noble and holy? My faith! 

A STREAM runs through my garden. It gushes from 
the side of a furze-covered hill. For a long time it 
was a happy little stream ; it traversed meadows where 
all sorts of lovely wild-flowers bathed and mirrored 
themselves in its waters; then it entered my garden, 
and there I was ready to receive it. I had prepared 
green banks for it ; on its edge and in its very bed I 
had planted those flowers which all over the world 
love to bloom on the banks and in the bosom of pure 
streams. 

It flowed through my garden, murmuring its plain- 
tive song; then, fragrant with my flowers, it left the 
garden, crossed another meadow, and flung itself into 
the sea, over the precipitous sides of a cliff which it 
covered with foam. It was a happy stream; it had 
literally nothing to do beyond what I have said, — 
to flow, to bubble, to look limpid, to murmur amid 
flowers and sweet perfumes. But the world is ever 
jealous of the happiness of gentle indolence. 

One day my brother Eugene, and Savage, the clever 
engineer, were talking together on the banks of the 
stream, and to a certain degree abusing it. 'There," 
said my brother, "is a fine good-for-nothing stream 
for you, forsooth ! winding and dawdling about, danc- 
ing in the sunshine, and revelling in the grass, instead 
of working and paying for the place it takes up, as 



150 Prose 

an honest stream should. Could it not be made to 
grmd coffee or pepper?" — "Or tools?" added Savage. 
— "Or to saw boards?" said my brother. I trembled 
for the stream, and broke off the conversation, com- 
plaining that they were trampling on my forget-me- 
not bed. Alas ! it was against these two alone that I 
could protect the devoted streamlet. 

Before long there came into our neighbourhood a 
man whom I noticed more than once hanging about 
the spot where the stream empties into the sea. The 
fellow, I plainly saw, was neither seeking for rhymes 
nor indulging in reveries upon its banks; he was not 
lulling thought to rest with the gentle murmur of its 
waters. ''My good friend," he was saying to the 
stream, ''there you are, idling and meandering about, 
singing to your heart's content, while I am working 
and wearing myself out. I don't see why you should 
not help me a bit; as yet you know nothing of the 
work to be done, but I will soon show you. You will 
soon know how to set about it. You must find it dull 
to stay in this way, doing nothing; it would be a 
change for you to make files or grind knives." 

Very soon wheels of all kinds were brought to the 
poor stream. From that day forward it has worked 
and turned a great wheel, which turns a little wheel, 
which turns a grindstone: it still sings, but no longer 
the same gently-monotonous song in its peaceful mel- 
ancholy. Its song is loud and angry now ; it leaps and 
froths and works now, — it grinds knives ! It still 
crosses the meadow, and my garden, and the next 
meadow ; but there the man is on the watch for it, to 
make it work. I have done the only thing I could 
do for it. I have dug a new bed for it in my garden, 
so that it may idle longer there, and leave me a little 
later; but, for all that, it must go at last and grind 
knives. Poor stream! thou didst not sufficiently con- 
ceal thy happiness in obscurity ; — thou hast murmured 
too audibly thy gentle music. 



Prose 151 



How to Welcome the Schoolmate from a Foreign 
Land. 

(Copyrighted by T. Y. Crowell & Company.) 

EDMONDO DE AMICIS. 

The school-room, in America, is the mediating ground where the 
Italian child, the German, the Irish, the Norwegian, all children in fact 
coming from foreign countries, or whose parents are foreigners, must 
learn to live together in peace and harmony and assimilate their future 
interests. This selection from that great book "Cuore" finds a place 
in this volume because the American boy, more than any other, should 
have the spirit of love and tolerance toward the little schoolmate from 
a distant land. 

< "To-day we ought to be glad, for there enters our 
school a little Italian born in Calabria, hundreds of 
miles from here. Love your brother who has come 
from so far away. 

''He was born in a glorious land, which has given 
illustrious men to Italy, and which now furnishes her 
with stout labourers and brave soldiers; in one of 
the most beautiful lands of our country, where there 
are great forests, and great mountains, inhabited by 
people full of talent and courage. Treat him well, 
so that he shall not perceive that he is far away from 
the city in which he was born; make him see that an 
Italian boy, in whatever school he sets his foot, v/ill 
find brothers there." So saying, the master rose and 
pointed out on the wall map the spot where lay Reg- 
gio, in Calabria. Then he called loudly: "Ernesto 
Derossi !" 

The boy who always has the first prize, Derossi, 
rose. 

"Come here," said the master. Derossi left his 
bench and stepped up to the little table, facing the Ca- 
labrian. "As the head boy in the school," said the 
master to him, "bestow the salute of welcome on this 
new companion, in the name of the whole class — the 
salute of the sons of Piedmont to the son of Calabria." 
Derossi saluted the Calabrian, saying in his clear 
voice, "Welcome !" and the other kissed him 'impetu- 



152 Prose 

ously on the cheeks. All clapped their hands. "Si- 
lence!" cried the master; "don't clap your hands in 
school !" But it was evident that he was pleased. And 
the Calabrian was pleased also. The master assigned 
him a place, and accompanied him to the bench. Then 
he said again: — 

"Bear well in mind what I have said to you, that a 
Calabrian boy should be as though in his own house, 
at Turin, and that a boy from Turin should be at 
home in Calabria, our country fought for fifty years, 
and thirty thousand Italians died. You must all 
respect and love each other; but any one of you who 
should give offence to this comrade, because he was 
not born in our province, would render himself un- 
worthy of ever again raising his eyes from the earth 
when he passes the tri-coloured flag." 

John Milton, on His Blindness. 

JOHN MILTOxX, 1 608-1 674. 

To that great oculist who "never loses a case," "who makes the sure, 
but dangerous wound while others hold the candle." 

They accuse me of blindness, because I have lost 
my eyes in the service of liberty; they tax me with 
cowardice, and while I had the use of my eyes and 
my sword I never feared the boldest among them; 
finally, I am upbraided with deformity, while no one 
was more handsome in the age of beauty. I do not 
even complain of my want of sight ; in the night with 
which I am surrounded the light of the Divine Pres- 
ence shines with a more brilliant lustre. 

Truth and Truthfulness. 

J. G. HOLLAND, 1819-1881. 

This selection is here because it was a favorite reading-lesson with me 
when I was a child. 

One of the rarest powers possessed by man, is the 
power to state a fact. It seems a very simple thing 



Prose 153 

to tell the truth, but, beyond all question, there is 
nothing half so easy as lying. To comprehend a fact 
in its exact length, breadth, relations, and significance, 
and to state it in language that shall represent it with 
exact fidelity, are the work of a mind singularly gifted, 
finely balanced, and thoroughly practised in that spe- 
cial department of effort. The men are compara- 
tively few who are in the habit of telling the truth. We 
all lie, every day of our lives- — almost in every sen- 
tence we utter — not consciously and criminally, per- 
haps, but really, in that our language fails to repre- 
sent truth, and state facts correctly. Our truths are 
half-truths, or distorted truths, or exaggerated truths, 
or sophisticated truths. Much of this is owing to 
carelessness, much to habit, and more than has gen- 
erally been supposed to mental incapacity. I have 
known eminent men who had not the power to state 
a fact, in its whole volume and outline, because, first, 
they could not comprehend it perfectly, and second, 
because their power of expression was limited. The 
lenses by which they apprehended their facts were not 
adjusted properly; so they saw everything with a blur. 
Definite outlines, cleanly cut edges, exact apprehen- 
sion of volume and weight, nice measurements of re- 
lations were matters outside of their observation and 
experience. They had broad minds, but bungling; 
and their language was no better than their apprehen- 
sions — usually it was worse, because language is rarely 
as definite as apprehension. Men rarely do their 
work to suit them, because their tools are imperfect. 
There are men in all communities who are believed 
to be honest, yet whose word is never taken as au- 
thority upon any subject. There is a flaw or warp 
somewhere in their perceptions which prevents them 
from receiving truthful impressions. Everything 
comes to them distorted, as natural objects are dis- 
torted by reaching the eye through wrinkled window 
glass. Some are able to apprehend a fact and state it 



1 54 Prose 

correctly, if it have no direct relation to themselves; 
but the moment their personality, or their personal in- 
terest is involved, the fact assumes false proportions 
and false colours. 

I know a physician whose patients are always 
alarmingly sick when he is first called to them. As 
they usually get well, I am bound to believe that he 
is a good physician; but I am not bound to believe 
that they are all as sick at the beginning as he supposes 
them to be. 

The first violent symptoms operate upon his imagi- 
nation and excite his fears ; and his opinion as to the 
degree of danger attaching to the diseases of his pa- 
tients is not worth half so much as that of any sensi- 
ble old nurse. In fact nobody thinks of taking it at all 
and those who know him and who hear his sad repre- 
sentations of the condition of his patients, show equal 
distrust of his word and faith in his skill by taking it 
for granted that they are in a fair way to get well. 

Sensitiveness. 

JOHN RUSKIN, 1819-1900. 
Insensibility is a crime, an unpardonable, vulgar habit. 

The ennobling difference between one man and 
another, — between one animal and another, — is pre- 
cisely in this, that one feels more than another. If 
we were sponges, perhaps sensation might not be 
easily got for us; if we were earth-worms, liable at 
every instant to be cut in two by the spade, perhaps 
too much sensation might not be good for us. But, 
being human creatures, it is good for us ; nay, we are 
human only in so far as we are sensitive, and our hon- 
our is precisely in proportion to our passion. 

You know I said of that great and pure society of 
the dead, that it would allow "no vain or vulgar per- 
son to enter there." What do you think I meant by 
a 'Vulgar" person? What do you yourselves mean 



Prose 155 

by "vulgarity"? You will find it a fruitful subject of 
thought; but, briefly, the essence of all vulgarity lies 
in want of sensation. Simple and innocent vulgarity 
is merely an untrained and undeveloped bluntness of 
body and mind ; but in true inbred vulgarity, there is 
a deathful callousness, which, in extremity, becomes 
capable of every sort of bestial habit and crime, with- 
out fear, without pleasure, without horror, and with- 
out pity. It is in the blunt hand and the dead heart, 
in the diseased habit, in the hardened conscience, that 
men become vulgar ; they are for ever vulgar, precisely 
in proportion as they are incapable of sympathy, — 
of quick understanding, — of all that, in deep insist- 
ence on the common, but most accurate term, may be 
called the "tact" or ''touch- faculty" of body and soul ; 
that tact which the Mimosa has in trees, which the 
pure woman has above all creatures; — fineness and 
fulness of sensation beyond reason ; — the guide and 
sanctifier of reason itself. Reason can but determine 
what is true : — it is the God-given passion of humanity 
which alone can recognise what God has made good. 

Treatment of Sisters. 

REV. HORACE V/INSLOW. 
For a big boy who always takes his little sister along. 

Every young man ought to feel that his honour is 
involved in the character and dignity of his sisters. 
There is no insult v/hich he should sooner rebuke, 
than one offered to them. But if you would have 
others esteem and honour them, you must esteem and 
honour them yourself. Treat them with far less re- 
serve, but with no less delicacy, than you would the 
most genteel stranger. Nothing in a family strikes 
the eye of a visitor with more delight, than to see 
brothers treat their sisters with kindness, civility, at- 
tention, and love. On the contrary, nothing is more 
offensive, or speaks worse for the honour of a fam- 



156 Prose 

ily, than the coarse, rude, unkind manner, which 
brothers sometimes exhibit. Beware how you speak 
of your sisters. Even gold is tarnished by much 
handhng. If you speak in their praise — of their 
beauty, learning, manners, wit, or attentions — you 
will subject them to taunt and ridicule; if you say 
anything against them, you will bring reproach upon 
yourself and them too. If you have occasion to speak 
of them, do it with modesty and with few words. Let 
others do all the praising, and yourself enjoy it. I 
hope that you will always have reason to take pleasure 
in your sisters. If you are separated from them, 
maintain with them a correspondence. This will do 
yourself good as well as them. Do not neglect this 
duty, nor grow remiss in it. Give your friendly ad- 
vice, and seek theirs in return. As they mingle inti- 
mately with their sex, they can enlighten your mind 
respecting many particulars relating to female char- 
acter, important for you to know; and on the other 
hand, you have the same opportunity to do them a 
similar service. 

However long or widely separated from them, keep 
up your fraternal affection and intercourse. 

It is ominous of evil, when a young man forgets his 
sisters. 

A Friend. 

(Permission of Houghton, Mifflin & Company.) 
R. W. EMERSON, 1803-1882. 

A FRIEND is a person with whom I may be sincere. 
Before him I may think aloud. I am arrived at last 
in the presence of a man so real and equal that I may 
drop even those garments of dissimulation, courtesy, 
and second-thought, which men never put off, and 
may deal with him with the simplicity and wholeness 
with which one chemical atom meets another. Sin- 
cerity is the luxury allowed to the highest rank. 



Prose 157 

Every man alone is sincere. At the entrance of a 
second person, hypocrisy begins. 

Suspicion. 

(Copyright, 1894, by John G. Nicolay and John Hay, also 1905 by 
Francis D. Tandy, in the Gettysburg Edition.) 

ABRAHAM LINCOLN, 1809-1865. FROM "THE COMPLETE 
WORKS OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN." 

"Do not look around to see what others are thinking." 

The way for a young man to rise is to improve him- 
self every way he can, never suspecting that anybody 
wishes to hinder him. Allow me to assure you that 
suspicion and jealousy never did help any man in any 
situation. There may sometimes be ungenerous at- 
tempts to keep a young man down ; and they will suc- 
ceed, too, if he allows his mind to be diverted from its 
true channel to brood over the attempted injury. 
Cast about, and see if this feeling has not injured 
every person you have ever known to fall into it. 

Now, in what I have said, I am sure you will sus- 
pect nothing but sincere friendship. I would save 
you from a fatal error. You have been a laborious, 
studious young man. You are far better informed 
on almost all subjects than I have been. You cannot 
fail in any laudable object unless you allow your 
mind to be improperly directed. 

Elpenor, and the Wine-Cup. 

(Copyrighted by Charles Scribner's Sons.) 

HOMER, 900 B.C. FROM "ODYSSEUS, THE HERO OF 
ITHACA." 

This story shows that drunkenness will carry a man to the Infernal 
Regions with more speed than a swift ship. Elpenor was first turned 
into a pig by drinking wine. 

With a heavy heart we sailed from Circe's island 
bound for the gloomy Hades. As the wind was fa- 
vourable, we soon reached the place of which the god- 
dess had told us. There we left the ship and did those 



158 Prose 

things which Circe had counselled us to do. As soon 
as the dark blood of the sheep began to flow into the 
trench, countless souls came flocking from Hades and 
begged to taste of the blood, that their mortal minds 
might be restored. 

Young wives and girls, old men and young war- 
riors who had fallen in battle, airy forms, ghosts of all 
kinds of people, flitted like bats around me in that 
dark place with fearful cries, and I turned pale with 
fear. I drew my sword and waved them back until 
I should question the soul of Tiresias. 

But first came the soul of Elpenor, one of my com- 
panions who had gone with me to the palace of Circe. 
We had left him dead in the halls of the goddess, 
since we had no time to bury him. Now, when I saw 
him a great pity stirred my heart, and I shed tears 
and said to him: "Elpenor, how didst thou come into 
these dread regions of darkness? Thou hast come 
more quickly on foot than I in my quick ship." 

The phantom knew me, for, being as yet unburied, 
he was not one of the shades, and had not lost his 
memory or voice. He moaned and replied : "Noble 
Ulysses, it was an evil fate which the gods had de- 
creed for me. I drank too much wine and that 
caused my death. I lay down to sleep on the roof of 
Circe's palace and could not remember the way to the 
stairs, when thou didst call us to the ships. In my 
haste I fell from the roof and broke my neck, and 
my soul came down to Hades. 

"I pray thee now by all whom thou dost love — 
thy wife, thy father, and thy son — that thou leave not 
my body unburied in the palace halls, lest I bring on 
thee the anger of the gods. But on thy return to 
Circe's isle burn my body, together with my armour; 
pile up a mound of earth over my ashes, and plant 
my oar upon my tomb — the oar with which I used to 
row while I was living." 



Prose 159 



The Old Trail to the Mother Lode. 
A Miner's Sermon. 

JOHN E. BURTON. 

Since time began no human being has been con- 
sulted as to whether he wished to be born or not. No 
human being has ever had a choice as to the nation or 
race in which he should be born. Of all the millions 
who have lived and died not one ever yet had the 
choice as to whether he would die or not. All the 
living of the earth must die. 

Your belief is wholly a question of where you hap- 
pened to be born. If born in a Buddhist land you 
are a Buddhist and believe in Buddha. 

If born in a Mohammedan land you believe in Ma- 
homet and are a Mohammedan. 

If born in a Confucian land you are a Confucian 
and believe in Confucius. 

Intelligence, reason, travel, enable the thinkers of 
the race to rise above the narrow lines of their little 
surroundings and see that Truth is not confined to 
the boundaries of your belief or your land, and that 
through all beliefs there runs the great and perma- 
nent vein, the Mother Lode of Humanity. 

One kind word makes all hearts alike. Kindness is 
always right. Men agree upon that fact throughout 
the whole world. The great object of life is to do 
your best and be kind. The most abiding comfort 
that comes to a strong man is the kindly disposition to 
help the fellow who is weaker. 

Under the rough miner's pride will be found true 
manly kindness even unto death. For when the fire- 
damp or the deadly cave-in comes, the real miner will 
rush to the rescue and risk and give his life for his 
comrade brother, and more than this man can not do. 

Welcome every sympathy that brings man nearer 
to man. Welcome all that is true and good in all re- 



i6o Prose 

ligions and in all books. Welcome pure lives. Wel- 
come all that improves the world, that forgives error 
and helps honesty, defeats wrong and defends hu- 
manity. To me, Sincerity is the Great Test of Man- 
hood. 

The Schoolmaster is Abroad. 

LORD BROUGHAM, 1778-1868. 

There have been periods when the country heard 
with dismay that "the soldier was abroad." That is 
not the case now. Let the soldier be abroad; in the 
present age he can do nothing. There is another per- 
son abroad, — a less important person in the eyes of 
some, an insignificant person, whose labours have 
tended to produce this state of things. The school- 
master is abroad! And I trust more to him, armed 
with his primer, than I do to the soldier in full mili- 
tary array, for upholding and extending the liberties 
of the country. The adversaries of improvement are 
wont to make themselves merry with what is termed 
the ''march of intellect," and here, as far as the phrase 
goes, they are in the right. The conqueror moves in 
a march. He stalks onward with the ''pride, pomp, 
and circumstance" of war, banners flying, shouts 
rending the air, guns thundering, and martial music 
pealing, to drown the shrieks of the wounded, and the 
lamentations for the slain. 

Not thus the schoolmaster, in his peaceful vocation. 
He quietly advances in his humble path, labouring 
steadily till he has opened to the light all the recesses 
of ignorance, and torn up by the roots the weeds of 
vice. His is a progress not to be compared with any- 
thing like a march ; but it leads to a far more brilliant 
triumph, and to laurels more imperishable than the 
destroyer of his species, the scourge of the world, ever 
won. Such men — men deserving the glorious title of 
Teachers of Mankind — I have found, labouring con- 



Prose i6i 

scientiously, though, perhaps, obscurely, in their 
blessed vocation, wherever I have gone. Their call- 
ing is high and holy ; their renown will fill the earth in 
after ages, in proportion as it sounds not far off in 
their own times. 

Aristocracy. 

ROBERT R. LIVINGSTON, 1748-1813. 

"Aristocracy," for the most part, is a bad habit, the last resort of 
"a blooming idiot." 

The gentleman, who has so copiously declaimed 
against all declamation, has pointed his artillery 
against the rich and great. We are told that, in every 
country, there is a natural Aristocracy, and that this 
Aristocracy consists of the rich and the great. Nay, 
the gentleman goes further, and ranks in this class of 
men the wise, the learned, and those eminent for their 
talents or great virtues. Does a man possess the confi- 
dence of his fellow-citizens, for having done them im- 
portant services ? He is an Aristocrat ! Has he great 
integrity ? He is an Aristocrat ! Indeed, to determine 
that one is an Aristocrat, we need only to be assured 
that he is a man of merit. But I hope we have many 
such. So sensible am I of that gentleman's talents, in- 
tegrity, and virtue, that we might at once hail him the 
first of the Nobles, the very Prince of the Senate ! 

But whom, in the name of common sense, would the 
gentleman have to represent us ? Not the rich, for they 
are sheer Aristocrats. Not the learned, the wise, the 
virtuous; for they are all Aristocrats. Whom then? 
Why, those who are not virtuous; those who are not 
wise ; those who are not learned ; — these are the men 
to whom alone we can trust our liberties! He says, 
further, we ought not to choose Aristocrats, because 
the People will not have confidence in them. That is 
to say, the People will not have confidence in those 
who best deserve and most possess their confidence! 
He would have his Government composed of other 



I 62 Prose 

classes of men. Where will he find them? Why, he 
must go forth into the highways, and pick up the 
rogue and the robber. He must go to the hedges and 
the ditches, and bring in the poor, the blind, and the 
lame. As the gentleman has thus settled the definition 
of Aristocracy, I trust that no man will think it a term 
of reproach; for who, among us, would not be wise? 
who would not be virtuous? who would not be above 
want? The truth is, in these Republican Govern- 
ments, we know no such ideal distinctions. We are 
all equally aristocrats. Offices, emoluments, honours, 
the roads to preferment and to wealth, are alike open 
to all. 

Eulogium on Franklin. 

COUNT DE MIRABEAU, 1 749-1791. 

Franklin lived on yellow corn-meal pudding when it was necessary 
and dined with kings when the call came. If you want to see his 
grave, you can hang with a crowd of his admirers on a fence around 
the square in which he is buried in Philadelphia. You will always 
find a crowd there. And yet we call him dead. 

Franklin is dead! Restored to the bosom of the 
Divinity is that genius which gave freedom to America, 
and rayed forth torrents of light upon Europe. The 
sage whom two worlds claim — the man whom the His- 
tory of Empires and the History of Science alike con- 
tend for — occupied, it cannot be denied, a lofty rank 
among his species. Long enough have political Cab- 
inets signalised the death of those who were great in 
their funeral eulogies only. Long enough has the eti- 
quette of Courts prescribed hypocritical mournings. 
For their benefactors only, should Nations assume the 
emblems of grief; and the Representatives of Nations 
should commend only the heroes of humanity to pub- 
lic veneration. 

In the fourteen States of the Confederacy, Congress 
has ordained a mourning of two months for the death 
of Franklin ; and America is at this moment acquitting 
herself of this tribute of honour to one of the Fathers 



Prose 163 

of her Constitution. Would it not become us, Gentle- 
men, to unite in this religious act ; to participate in this 
homage, publicly rendered, at once to the rights of 
man, and to the philosopher who has contributed most 
largely to their vindication throughout the world ? An- 
tiquity would have erected altars to this great and 
powerful genius, who, to promote the welfare of man- 
kind, comprehending both the Heavens and the Earth 
in the range of his thought, could at once snatch the 
bolt from the cloud and the sceptre from tyrants. 
France, enlightened and free, owes at least the ac- 
knowledgment of her remembrance and regret to one 
of the greatest intellects that ever served the united 
cause of philosophy and liberty. I propose that it be 
now decreed that the National Assembly wear mourn- 
ing, during three days, for Benjamin Franklin. 

John Adams* Speech on the Declaration of Inde- 
pendence as Imagined by Daniel Webster. 

DANIEL WEBSTER, 1782-1852. 

This powerful speech I loved when a child, and it has been one of 
the inspirations of my life. 

Sink or swim, live or die, survive or perish, I give 
my hand and my heart to this vote. It is true, indeed, 
that in the beginning, we aimed not at independence. 
But there is a divinity which shapes our ends. The 
injustice of England has driven us to arms ; and blinded 
to her own interest, she has obstinately persisted, till 
independence is now within our grasp. We have but 
to reach forth to it, and it is ours. Why, then, should 
we defer the Declaration? Is any man so weak as 
now to hope for a reconciliation with England, which 
shall leave either safety to the country and its liberties, 
or security to his Own life and his own honour? Are 
not you, sir, who sit in that chair, — is not he, our ven- 
erable colleague, near you — are you not both already 
the proscribed and predestined objects of punishment 



164 Prose 

and of vengeance? Cut off from all hope of royal 
clemency, what are you, what can you be, while the 
power of England remains, but outlaws? If we post- 
pone independence, do we mean to carry on or to give 
up the war? Do we mean to submit to the measures 
of Parliament, Boston Port Bill and all ? Do we mean 
to submit, and consent that we ourselves shall be 
ground to powder, and our country and its rights trod- 
den down in the dust ? I know we do not mean to sub- 
mit. We never shall submit. Do we intend to violate 
that most solemn obligation ever entered into by men, 
— that plighting, before God, of our sacred honour to 
Washington, when, putting him forth to incur the dan- 
gers of war, as well as the political hazards of the 
times, we promised to adhere to him, in every extrem- 
ity, with our fortunes and our lives? I know there is 
not a man here who would not rather see a general 
conflagration sweep over the land, or an earthquake 
sink it, than one jot or tittle of that plighted faith fall 
to the ground. For myself, having twelve months ago, 
in this place, moved you, that George Washington be 
appointed commander of the forces raised, or to be 
raised, for defence of American liberty, may my right 
hand forget her cunning, and my tongue cleave to the 
roof of my mouth, if I hesitate or waver in the support 
I give him. The war, then, must go on. We must 
fight it through. And if the war must go on, why put 
off longer the Declaration of Independence? That 
measure will strengthen us. It will give us character 
abroad. The nations will then treat with us, which 
they never can do while we acknowledge ourselves sub- 
jects in arms against our sovereign. Nay, I maintain 
that England herself will sooner treat for peace with 
us on the footing of independence, than consent, by re- 
pealing her acts, to acknowledge that her whole con- 
duct towards us has been a course of injustice and op- 
pression. Her. pride will be less wounded by sub- 
mitting to that course of things which now predesti- 



Prose . 165 

nates our independence, than by yielding the points in 
controversy to her rebelhous subjects. The former 
she would regard as the result of fortune; the latter, 
she would feel as her own deep disgrace. Why, then, 
do we not, as soon as possible, change this from a civil 
to a national war ? And since we must fight it through, 
why not put ourselves in a state to enjoy all the bene- 
fits of victory, if we gain the victory? If we fail, it 
can be no worse for us. But we shall not fail. The 
cause will raise up armies ; the cause will create navies. 
The people, the people, the people, if we are true to 
them, will carry us, and will carry themselves, glori- 
ously through this struggle. I care not how fickle other 
people have been found. I know the people of these 
colonies ; and I know that resistance to British aggres- 
sion is deep and settled in their hearts, and cannot 
be eradicated. 

The Declaration of Independence will inspire the 
people with increased courage. Instead of a long and 
bloody war for the restoration of privileges, for redress 
of grievances, for chartered immunities, held under a 
British king, set before them the glorious object of en- 
tire independence, and it will breathe into them anew 
the spirit of life. Read this declaration at the head 
of the army ; every sword will be drav/n from its scab- 
bard, and the solemn vow uttered to maintain it, or 
perish on the field of honour. Publish it from the pul- 
pit; religion will approve it, and the love of religious 
liberty will cling around it, resolved to stand with it, 
or fall with it. Send it to the public halls ; proclaim it 
there; let them hear it who heard the first roar of the 
enemy's cannon — let them see it, who saw their 
brothers and their sons fall on the field of Bunker Hill, 
and in the streets of Lexington and Concord, — and 
the very walls will cry out in its support. 

Sir, I know the uncertainty of human affairs, but I 
see, I see clearly, through this day's business. You 
and I, indeed, may rue it. We may not live to see 



1 66 Prose 

the time when this Declaration shall be made good. 
We may die ; die colonists ; die slaves ; die, it may 
be, ignominiously and on the scaffold. Be it so. Be 
it so. If it be the pleasure of Heaven that my coun- 
try shall require the poor offering of my life, the 
victim shall be ready at the appointed hour of sacri- 
fice, come when that hour may. But while I do live, 
let me have a country, or at least the hope of a 
country, and that a free country. 

But whatever may be our fate, be assured, be as- 
sured that this Declaration will stand. It may cost 
treasure, and it may cost blood ; but it will stand, and 
it will richly compensate for both. Through the thick 
gloom of the present, I see the brightness of the fu- 
ture, as the sun in heaven. We shall make this a 
glorious, an immortal day. When we are in our graves, 
our children will honour it. They will celebrate it with 
thanksgiving, with festivity, with bonfires and illu- 
minations. On its annual return, they will shed tears, 
copious, gushing tears; not of subjection and slavery, 
not of agony and distress, but of exultation, of grati- 
tude, and of joy. 

Sir, before God, I believe the hour is come. My 
judgment approves this measure, and my whole heart 
is in it. All that I have, and all that I am, and all 
that I hope in this life, I am now ready here to 
stake upon it ; and I leave off as I began, that, live 
or die, survive or perish, I am for the Declaration. 
It is my living sentiment, and by the blessing of God, it 
shall be my dying sentiment, — Independence now, and 

INDEPENDENCE FOREVER. 



Prose 167 

Imperishability of Great Examples. 

EDWARD EVERETT, 1 794-1865. 

This is the first great utterance of the politics of Jesus. Love 
must be given a working-form. — Edwin Markham in "The Poetry of 
Jesus." 

To be cold and breathless, — to feel not and speak 
not, — this is not the end of existence to the men who 
have breathed their spirits into the institutions of their 
country, who have stamped their characters on the 
pillars of the age, who have poured their hearts' blood 
into the channels of the public prosperity. Tell me, 
ye who tread the sods of yon sacred height, is War- 
ren dead? Can you not still see him, not pale and 
prostrate, the blood of his gallant heart pouring out 
of his ghastly wound, but moving resplendent over the 
field of honour, with the rose of Heaven upon his 
cheek, and the fire of liberty in his eye? Tell me, ye 
who make your pious pilgrimage to the shades of Ver- 
non, is Washington, indeed, shut up in that cold and 
narrow house ? That which made these men, and men 
like these, cannot die. The hand that traced the char- 
ter of Independence is, indeed, motionless ; the elo- 
quent lips that sustained it are hushed; but the lofty 
spirits that conceived, resolved, and maintained it, and 
which alone, to such men, ''make it life to liye," these 
cannot expire: 

"These shall resist the empire of decay, 
When time is o'er, and worlds have passed away; 
Cold in the dust the perished heart may lie, 
But that which warmed it once can never die." 



i68 Prose 

Reverence. 

MRS. CHARLES BRAY, OF COVENTRY, ENGLAND. 

Octavia, do you remember that July morning in 1898 when we stepped 
from the train at Coventry, the city of the Lady Godiva? We hoped 
to see with our mortal eyes the houses and streets made sacred to 
memory by the once illuminating presence of the author of "Adam 
Bede." We went to the news-stand to find a "Guide to Coventry" and 
found one; it gave a long account of "Peeping Tom" but did not 
mention our author. We berated a guide-book that could mention the 
trite Tom and omit an immortal. An elderly gentleman, shaking with 
palsy, took from his pocket-book a printed paragraph, a criticism, on our 
author. Did I reply that I had no time to read a criticism on what 
American Colleges accepted as standard, or was it you that made the 
answer? In August we found the critic's grave in Keswick, and we were 
grateful to the care-taker who shov/ed it to us, and gave him a fee. 

But on that July morning we took a carriage and drove to Ivy 
Cottage, where we announced that we were two Americans who hoped 
to see the Land of the Author of "Middlemarch" and her birthplace and 
homes. 

Do you remember that two beautiful old fairy ladies with fresh pink 
and white cheeks and snowy curls threw their arms around us and led 
us into a rose garden, and through the rooms where, as a young girl. 
Miss Evans had lingered, "her curls pulled down around her delicate face 
because she was so shy"? These fairy godmothers took us to a long 
table and poured out upon it from baskets and boxes untold literary 
treasures, letters from Carlyle, Gladstone, Harriet Martineau, and a heap 
of empty envelopes which had once contained the letters they had re- 
ceived from George Eliot, but had given to Mr. Cross for his "Life of 
George Eliot as Related in her Letters." 

They played for us the tunes George Eliot loved and showed us the 
picture painted of her. Miss Hennell gave you an autograph copy 
of one of her books, and Mrs. Charles Bray wrote her name in her 
own volume "Elements of Morality" and gave it to me. Then the 
two fairy ladies gave us a cup of tea and some cake and kissed us and 
sent us away with an affectionate "Come again." It is in memory of 
that golden day and those golden v/omen that I include the following 
words on Reverence from the little book which Mrs. Bray gave me and 
which in Italy has become a standard. They are truly words that every 
child should know. 

It may seem a small offence, especially in a child, 
to be rude; a gnat is a small thing, and yet it may 
cause much irritation. Sometimes we see a child who 
does not answer when he is spoken to, or who turns 
his back upon us instead of listening; who yawns in 
our face, or whistles while we are engaged in some 
quiet study; who pushes past us in the street, or does 
not step aside to let others pass ; who slams doors ; 
who eats his meals without helping to serve others; 
who stands staring at a friend or guest instead of 
meeting him pleasantly and replying to his greeting; 
who contradicts and denies flatly what others say, from 



Prose 169 

habit, and not because he knows better than they do. 
All these ugly ways cause irritation and annoyance 
to others; and if they become habits, they will sour the 
disposition, and the inner feelings will become as 
rough and rude as the outward manners. 

Rude behaviour is called repulsive ; that means, it 
drives away : kind and courteous behaviour is called 
attractive; that means, it draws towards. Thus, like 
all other things which are ugly and wrong in our con- 
duct, rudeness separates us from our fellow-creatures, 
and tends to make us alone in the world ; while courtesy 
unites us with others. 

Rudeness and disrespect are wrong towards any- 
body, but rudeness from a child to a parent is odious. 
"Honour thy father and thy mother" is called 'The 
first commandment with promise." 

Do not we all feel that we have a right to be re- 
spected by others if we have done nothing that de- 
grades us? Does not even a little child feel angry 
when he is treated with rudeness ? Even the little dog 
or the cat which sits at our feet, and loves to be with 
us, is sorely wounded if we push it aside rudely, or 
speak to it with harshness. 

Everything that lives and feels is entitled to our 
kindness, and in some way to our respect, either as our 
fellow-creature, or as a beautiful and wonderful ex- 
istence, whose being is a mystery beyond our under- 
standing. 

See the boy who clutches and crushes the butterfly 
as it spreads its wings ; who stamps with his heavy foot 
the life out of the merry, busy little insect, which 
speeds along his path ; who hurls a stone at the tender 
bird as it warbles sweetly in the bush ; who plucks and 
scatters the delicate flowers as they bend towards him 
on their graceful stems. He has not soul enough to 
admire their beauty, he has not sense enough to feel 
the marvel of their existence. He is like the lowest 
savage who cannot admire or wonder at anything. 



I/O Prose 

See two men enter a magnificent building. Statues 
of great and good men of the past stand around. The 
organ is pealing forth the grand music of those who 
have left their spirits in the harmony they created. 
One of these two men enters with reverence. He takes 
off his hat in sign of respect ; he sits down quietly lest 
he should disturb others in their enjoyment. The per- 
sons who are near him at once welcome him as a 
kindred spirit who helps them to admire and enjoy by 
his sympathy, although they may not know who he is. 

The other man comes in hat on head, hands in his 
pockets. He stands lounging about, or pushes against 
others; he talks or whispers so as to disturb everyone 
who is listening to the music ; he is too dull to feel the 
beauty either of the building or of the music, so he 
noisily walks out before the performance is finished; 
and everyone is glad that he is gone. The reverence 
of the first man makes him attractive and the rudeness 
of the other makes him repulsive. 

See, again, two children v/ho are old enough to 
think and feel about what they hear and read. One 
of them does not think and has no feeling. He reads 
how Sir Humphry Davy invented a safety lamp for 
the poor miners, but he quickly turns over to a more 
amusing page of the book. He does not care about 
others, or for what happens to them. 

The other child both thinks and has feeling. He 
cannot leave Sir Humphry Davy or his lamp until 
he understands the clever contrivance by which light 
is taken a safe prisoner down among the explosive 
gases of the dark pit. 

Which of these two children is likely to do what 
is good and kind and noble when he himself becomes a 
man? 



Prose 171 



Separation from New England. 

RICHARD YATES, 1818-1873. 

I REGRET that appeals are made to the masses, by 
a few pubHc presses in the country, for a separation 
from New England. Not a drop of New England 
blood flows in my veins ; still I should deem myself an 
object of commiseration and shame if I could forget 
her glorious history, if I could forget that the blood of 
her citizens freely commingled with that of my own 
Ancestors, upon those memorable fields which ushered 
in the dawn of civil and religious liberty. I do not 
propose to be the eulogist of New England ; but she 
is bound to us by all the bright Memories of the past, 
by all the glory of the present, by all the hopes of the 
future. I shall always exult in the fact that I belong 
to a Republic in the galaxy of whose stars New Eng- 
land is among the brightest and the best. Palsied be 
the hand that would sever the ties which bind the East 
and West. 

A Political Pause. 

CHARLES JAMES FOX, 1749-1806. 

But if a man were present now at the field of 
slaughter, and were to inquire for what were they 
fighting — "Fighting!" would be the answer, "they are 
not fighting; they are pausing/' "Why is that man 
expiring? Why is that other writhing with agony? 
What means this implacable fury ?" The answer must 
be, "You are quite wrong, Sir; you deceive yourself 
— they are not fighting — do not disturb them — they are 
merely pausing! This man is not expiring with agony 
— that man is not dead — he is only pausing! Lord 
help you. Sir! they are not angry with one another; 
they have now no cause of quarrel ; but their country 
thinks that there should be a pause. 



172 Prose 

"All that you see, Sir, is nothing like fighting— there 
is no harm nor cruelty nor bloodshed in it, whatever ; 
it is nothing more than a political pause ! It is merely 
to try an experiment — to see whether Bonaparte will 
not behave himself better than heretofore; and in the 
meantime we have agreed to pause in pure friendship." 

» An Appeal to Arms. 

PATRICK HENRY, 1736-1799. 

Mr. President, this is no time for ceremony. The 
question before the house is one of awful moment to 
this country. For my own part, I consider it as noth- 
ing less than a question of freedom or slavery. 

And in proportion to the magnitude of the subject 
ought to be the freedom of the debate. 

It is only in this way that we can hope to arrive at 
truth, and fulfil the great responsibility which we hold 
to God and our country. 

Should I keep back my opinions at this time, through 
fear of giving ofifence, I should consider myself as 
guilty of treason towards my country, and of an act 
of disloyalty towards the majesty of Heaven, which 
I revere above all earthly kings. 

Mr. President, it is natural to man to indulge in the 
illusions of Hope. We are apt to shut our eyes against 
a painful truth — and listen to the song of that siren, 
till she transforms us into beasts. 

Is this the part of wise men engaged in a great 
and arduous struggle for liberty? Are we disposed 
to be of the numbers of those, who having eyes, see 
not, and having ears, hear not, the things which so 
nearly concern their temporal salvation ? For my part, 
whatever anguish of spirit it may cost, I am willing 
to know the whole truth; — to know the worst and to 
provide for it ! 

I have but one lamp by which my feet are guided; 
and that is the lamp of experience. I know of no way 



Prose 173 

of judging of the future but by the past. And judging 
by the past, I wish to know what there has been in the 
conduct of the British ministry, for the last ten years, 
to justify those hopes with which gentlemen have been 
pleased to solace themselves and the House ? Is it that 
insidious smile with which our petition has been lately 
received? Trust it not, Sir; it will prove a snare to 
your feet ! 

Suffer not yourselves to be betrayed by a kiss ! 

Ask yourselves how this gracious reception of our 
petition comports with those warlike preparations 
which cover our waters, and darken our land. 

'Are fleets and armies necessary to a work of love 
and reconciliation? Have we shown ourselves so un- 
willing to be reconciled, that force must be called in 
to win back our love? Let us not deceive ourselves, 
Sir. 

These are the implements of war and subjugation — 
the last arguments to which Kings resort. 

I ask. Sir, what means this martial array, if its 
purpose be not to force us to submission ? 

Can gentlemen assign any other possible motive for 
it ? Has Great Britain any enemy in this quarter of the 
world, to call for all this accumulation of navies and 
armies? No, Sir, she has none. They are meant for 
us; they can be meant for no other. They are sent 
over to bind and rivet upon us those chains which the 
British ministry have been so long forging. 

And what have we to oppose to them? Shall we 
try argument? Sir, we have been trying that for the 
last ten years. Have we anything new to offer upon 
the subject? Nothing. We have held the subject in 
every light of which it is capable; but it has been all 
in vain. Shall we resort to entreaty and humble sup- 
plication? What terms shall we find, which have not 
been already exhausted? Let us not, I beseech you. 
Sir, deceive ourselves longer. 

Sir, we have done everything that could be done, 



1 74 Prose 

to avert the storm that is now coming on. We have 
petitioned — we have remonstrated — we have suppH- 
cated — we have prostrated ourselves before the 
Throne, and have implored its interposition to arrest 
the tyrannical hands of the Ministry and Parliament. 

Our petitions have been slighted ; our remonstrances 
have produced additional violence and insult ; our sup- 
plications have been disregarded; and we have been 
spurned with contempt, from the foot of the Throne. 

In vain, after these things, may we indulge the fond 
hope of peace and reconciliation. 

There is no longer any room for hope. 

If we wish to be free, — if we mean to preserve 
inviolable those inestimable privileges for which we 
have been so long contending, — if we mean not basely 
to abandon the noble struggle in which we have been 
so long engaged, and which we have pledged ourselves 
never to abandon until the glorious object of our con- 
test shall be obtained, — we must fight ; I repeat it. Sir, 
we must fight! An appeal to arms, and to the God 
of Hosts, is all that is left us ! 

The War is Inevitable. 

PATRICK HENRY, 1 736-1 799- 

"Imagine the influence of such a powerful speech as this, learned and 
repeated as it has been for more than a hundred years," says a devoted 
teacher. Ask almost any clever business man, educated in America, 
what his favourite speech was when a boy and he will say: "The War is 
Inevitable." 

They tell us, Sir, that we are weak, — unable to cope 
with so formidable an adversary. But when shall we 
be stronger? Will it be the next week, or the next 
year? Will it be when we are totally disarmed, and 
when a British guard shall be stationed in every house ? 
Shall v/e gather strength by irresolution and inaction? 
Shall we acquire the means of effectual resistance by 
lying supinely on our backs, and hugging the delusive 
phantom of hope, until our enemies shall have bound 
us hand and foot? Sir, we are not weak, if we make 



Prose 175 

a proper use of those means which the God of nature 
hath placed in our power. 

Three milHons of People, armed in the holy cause 
of liberty, and in such a country as that which we 
possess, are invincible by any force which our enemy 
can send against us. Besides, Sir, we shall not fight 
our battles alone. There is a just God who presides 
over the destinies of Nations, and who will raise up 
friends to fight our battles for us. The battle. Sir, 
is not to the strong alone, it is to the vigilant, the 
active, the brave. Besides, Sir, we have no election. 
If we were base enough to desire it, it is now too 
late to retire from the contest. There is no retreat 
but in submission and slavery ! Our chains are 
forged ! Their clanking may be heard on the plains of 
Boston ! The war is inevitable ; and let it come ! 
I REPEAT IT, Sir, let it come! 

It is in vain. Sir, to extenuate the matter. Gen- 
tlemen may cry, peace, peace ! — but there is no peace. 
The war is actually begun ! The next gale that sweeps 
from the North will bring to our ears the clash of 
resounding arms ! Our brethren are already in the 
field! Why stand we here idle? What is it that 
Gentlemen wish? What would they have? Is life so 
dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the 
price of chains and slavery? Forbid it. Almighty 
God! I know not what course others may take, but 
as for me, give me liberty, or give me death ! 

Against Employing Indians in War. 

WILLIAM PITT (EARL OF CHATHAM), 1708-1778. NOVEM- 
BER 18, 1777, AGAINST THE EARL OF SUFFOLK. 

Who is the man that, in addition to the disgraces 
and mischiefs of our army, has dared to authorise and 
associate to our arms the tomahawk and scalping-knife 
of the savage? — to call into civilised alliance the wild 
and inhuman savage of the woods ; to delegate to the 



176 Prose 

merciless Indian the defence of disputed rights; and 
to wage the horrors of his barbarous war against our 
brethren? My Lords, these enormities cry aloud for 
redress and punishment; but, atrocious as they are, 
they have a defender in this House. "It is perfectly 
justifiable," says a noble Lord, "to use all the means 
that God and Nature put into our hands." I am 
astonished, shocked, to hear such principles confessed, 
— to hear them avowed in this House, or even in this 
country : — principles equally unconstitutional, inhuman, 
and unchristian! My Lords, I did not intend to have 
trespassed again upon your attention ; but I cannot 
repress my indignation — I feel myself inpelled by 
every duty to proclaim it. As members of this House, 
as men, as Christians, we are called upon to protest 
against the barbarous proposition. "That God and 
Nature put into our hands!" What ideas that noble 
Lord may entertain of God and Nature, I know not; 
but I know that such abominable principles are equally 
abhorrent to religion and to humanity. What! at- 
tribute the sacred sanction of God and Nature to the 
massacres of the Indian scalping-knife, — to the can- 
nibal savage, torturing, murdering, devouring, drink- 
ing the blood of his mangled victim! Such horrible 
notions shock every precept of religion, revealed or 
natural; every sentiment of honour, every generous 
feeling of humanity ! 

These abominable principles, and this more abom- 
inable avowal of them, demand most decisive indig- 
nation ! I call upon that Right Reverend Bench, the 
pious pastors of our Church, I conjure them to join 
in the holy v/ork, and to vindicate their religion. I ap- 
peal to the wisdom and the law of this learned Bench, 
to defend and support the justice of their country ! 
I call upon the honour of your Lordships to rever- 
ence the dignity of your ancestors, and to maintain 
your own! I call upon the spirit and humanity of 
my country, to vindicate the national character. I 



Prose 177 

invoke the genius of the Constitution ! Shall we turn 
forth into our settlements, among our ancient connec- 
tions, friends and relations, the merciless cannibal, 
thirsting for the blood of man, woman, and child? 
Send forth the savage against your brethren ? To lay 
waste their country, to desolate their dwellings, and 
extirpate their race and name, with these horrible hell- 
hounds of savage war ! Spain armed herself with 
blood-hounds to extirpate the wretched natives of 
America; and we improve on the inhuman example 
of even Spanish cruelty; — we turn loose these savage 
Indians against our brethren and countrymen in 
Arherica, of the same language, laws, liberties, and re- 
ligion, — endeared to us by every tie that should sanc- 
tify humanity! 

My Lords, this awful subject, so important to our 
honour, our Constitution, and our religion, demands 
the most solemn and effectual inquiry. And I again 
call upon your Lordships, and the united powers of 
the State, to examine it thoroughly and decisively, 
and to stamp upon it an indelible stigma of the public 
abhorrence. My Lords, I am old and weak, and at 
present unable to say more; but my feelings and my 
indignation were too strong to have said less. I could 
not have slept this night in my bed, or have reposed 
my head on my pillow, without giving this vent to my 
eternal abhorrence of such preposterous and enormous 
principles. 

British Aggressions. 

JOSIAH QUINCY, JR., i743-i775. 

If there ever was a time, this is the hour for Ameri- 
cans to rouse themselves, and exert every ability. 
Their all is at hazard, and the die of fate spins doubt- 
ful. British taxations, suspensions of legislatures, and 
standing armies, are but some of the clouds which 
overshadow the northern world. Now is the time for 
this People to summon every aid, human and divine; 



178 Prose 

to exhibit every moral virtue, and call forth every 
Christian grace. The wisdom of the serpent, the in- 
nocence of the dove, and the intrepidity of the lion, 
with the blessing of God, will yet save ns from the 
jav/s of destruction. 

By the sweat of our brow we earn the little we 
possess ; from nature we derive the common rights of 
man ; — and by charter we claim the liberties of Britons ! 
Shall we — dare we — pusillanimously surrender our 
birthright? Is the obligation to our fathers dis- 
charged ? is the debt we owe posterity paid ? Answer 
me, thou coward, who hidest thyself in the hour of 
trial! — if there is no reward in this life, no prize of 
glory in the next, capable of animating thy dastard 
soul ; think and tremble, thou miscreant ! at the whips 
and stripes thy master shall lash thee with on earth, 
and the flames and scorpions thy second master shall 
torment thee with hereafter ! O, my countrymen ! 
what will our children say, when they read the history 
of these times, should they find we tamely gave away, 
without one noble struggle, the most invaluable of 
earthly blessings? As they drag the galling chain, 
will they not execrate us? If we have any respect 
for things sacred, any regard to the dearest treasure 
on earth, — if we have one tender sentiment for pos- 
terity, if we would not be despised by the whole world, 
— let us, in the most open, solemn manner and with 
determined fortitude, swear we will die, if we cannot 
live, freemen! 

To the American Troops before the Battle of Long 
Island. 

GEORGE WASHINGTON, 1732-1799. 

It is worth a great deal to know when to let go. A retreat may be 
as clever as a victory. Washington was obliged to retreat in the Battle 
of Long Island, and he did it so skilfully that the British could not 
forgive him. 

The time is now near at hand which must prob- 
ably determine whether Americans are to be freemen 



Prose 179 

or slaves ; whether they are to have any property they 
can call their own; whether their houses and farms 
are to be pillaged and destroyed, and themselves con- 
signed to a state of wretchedness from which no 
human efforts will deliver them. The fate of unborn 
millions will now depend, under God, on the courage 
and conduct of this army. Our cruel and unrelenting 
enemy leaves us only the choice of a brave resistance, 
or the most abject submission. We have, therefore, 
to resolve to conquer or to die. 

Our own, our country's honour, calls upon us for 
a vigorous and manly exertion ; and if we now shame- 
fully fail, we shall become infamous to the whole 
world. Let us, then, rely on the goodness of our 
cause, and the aid of the Supreme Being, in whose 
hands victory is, to animate and encourage us to great 
and noble actions. The eyes of all our countrymen 
are now upon us ; and we shall have their blessings 
and praises, if happily we are the instruments of sav- 
ing them from the tyranny meditated against them. 
Let us, therefore, animate and encourage each other, 
and show the whole world that a freeman contend- 
ing for liberty on his own ground is superior to any 
slavish mercenary on earth. 

Liberty, property, life and honour, are all at stake. 
Upon your courage and conduct rest the hopes of our 
bleeding and insulted country. Our wives, children 
and parents, expect safety from us only; and they 
have every reason to believe that Heaven will crown 
with success so just a cause. The enemy will en- 
deavour to intimidate by show and appearance ; but 
remember they have been repulsed on various 
occasions by a few brave Americans. Their cause is 
bad, — their men are conscious of it; and, if opposed 
with firmness and coolness on their first onset, with 
our advantage of works, and knowledge of the 
ground, the victory is most assuredly ours. Every 
good soldier will be silent and attentive, wait for or- 



i8o Prose 

ders, and reserve his fire until he is sure of doing 
execution. 

The Constitution of the United States. 

At the age of thirteen or fourteen myself and class-mates were obliged 
to commit to memory the constitution of the united states, the 
WHOLE of it. We recited it forwards and backwards, inside out, and 
upside down and always declaimed it for company. Here's a rouse to 
the good old teacher who taught it to us! 

Preamble. 

We, the people of the United States, in order to 
form a more perfect union, establish justice, insure do- 
mestic tranquillity, provide for the common defence, 
promote the general welfare, and secure the blessings 
of liberty to ourselves and our posterity, do ordain and 
establish this Constitution for the United States of 
America. 

ARTICLE I. The Legislative Department. 
Section L Congress in General. 

All legislative powers herein granted shall be vested 
in a Congress of the United States, which shall con- 
sist of a Senate and House of Representatives. 

Section IL House of Representatives. 

1st Clause. The House of Representatives shall be 
composed of members chosen every second year by the 
people of the several States, and the electors in each 
State shall have the qualifications requisite for electors 
of the most numerous branch of the State legislature. 

2d Clause. No person shall be a representative who 
shall not have attained to the age of twenty-five years, 
and been seven years a citizen of the United States, 
and who shall not, when elected, be an inhabitant of 
that State in which he shall be chosen. 

3d Clause. Representatives and direct taxes shall 
be apportioned among the several States which may 



Prose i8i 

be included within this Union, according to their re- 
spective numbers, which shall be determined by add- 
ing to the whole number of free persons, including 
those bound to service for a term of years, and, ex- 
cluding Indians not taxed, three-fifths of all other 
persons. The actual enumeration shall be made within 
three years after the first meeting of the Congress of 
the United States, and within every subsequent term 
of ten years, in such manner as they shall by law direct. 
The number of representatives shall not exceed one 
for every thirty thousand, but each State shall have 
at least one representative; and until such enumera- 
tion shall be made, the State of New Hampshire shall 
be entitled to choose three, Massachusetts eight, Rhode 
Island and Providence Plantations one, Connecticut 
five, New York six. New Jersey four, Pennsylvania 
eight, Delaware one, Maryland six, Virginia ten. North 
Carolina five. South Carolina five, and Georgia three. 

4th Clause. When vacancies happen in the repre- 
sentation from any State, the executive authority 
thereof shall issue writs of election to fill such vacan- 
cies. 

^th Clause. The House of Representatives shall 
choose their Speaker and other officers ; and shall have 
the sole power of impeachment. 

Section III. The Senate. 

1st Clause. The Senate of the United States shall 
be composed of two senators from each State, chosen 
by the legislature thereof, for six years ; and each sena- 
tor shall have one vote. 

2d Clause. Immediately after they shall be assem- 
bled in consequence of the first election, they shall 
be divided as equally as may be into three classes. 
The seats of the senators of the first class shall be 
vacated at the expiration of the second year, of the 
second class at the expiration of the fourth year, and 
of the third class at the expiration of the sixth year, 



I 82 Prose 

so that one-third may be chosen every second year; 
and if vacancies happen by resignation, or otherwise, 
during the recess of the legislature of any State, the 
executive thereof may make temporary appointments 
until the next meeting of the legislature, which shall 
then fill such vacancies. 

3J Clause. No person shall be a senator who shall 
not have attained to the age of thirty years, and been 
nine years a citizen of the United States, and who shall 
not, when elected, be an inhabitant of that State for 
which he shall be chosen. 

4th Clause. The Vice-President of the United 
States shall be President of the Senate, but shall have 
no vote, unless they be equally divided. 

^th Clause. The Senate shall choose their other 
officers, and also a President pro tempore, in the ab- 
sence of the Vice-President, or when he shall exercise 
the office of President of the United States. 

6tli Clause. The Senate shall have the sole power 
to try all impeachments. When sitting for that pur- 
pose, they shall all be on oath or affirmation. When 
the President of the United States is tried, the Chief 
Justice shall preside; and no person shall be convicted 
without the concurrence of two-thirds of the members 
present. 

yth Clause. Judgment in cases of impeachment 
shall not extend further than to removal from office, 
and disqualification to hold and enjoy any office of 
honour, trust, or profit under the United States ; but 
the party convicted shall nevertheless be liable and 
subject to indictment, trial, judgment, and punishment, 
according to law. 

Section IV. Both Houses. 

1st Clause. The times, places, and manner of hold- 
ing elections for senators and representatives, shall be 
prescribed in each State by the legislature thereof; 
but the Congress may at any time by law make or 



Prose 183 

alter such regulations, except as to the places of choos- 
ing senators. 

2d Clause. The Congress shall assemble at least 
once in every year, and such meeting shall be on the 
first Monday in December, unless they shall by law 
appoint a different day. 

Section V. — The Houses Separately. 

1st Clause. Each house shall be the judge of the 
elections, returns, and qualifications of its own mem- 
bers, and a majority of each shall constitute a quorum 
to do business; but a smaller number may adjourn 
from day to day, and may be authorised to compel 
the attendance of absent members, in such manner 
and under such penalties as each house may provide. 

2d Clause. Each house may determine the rules of 
its proceedings, punish its members for disorderly be- 
haviour, and, with the concurrence of two-thirds, ex- 
pel a member. 

^d Clause. Each house shall keep a journal of its 
proceedings, and from time to time publish the same, 
excepting such parts as may in their judgment require 
secrecy; and the yeas and nays of the members of 
either house on any question shall, at the desire of 
one-fifth of those present, be entered on the journal. 

4th Clause. Neither house, during the session of 
Congress, shall, without the consent of the other, ad- 
journ for more than three days, nor to any other 
place than that in which the two houses shall be sitting. 

Section VI. Privileges and Disabilities of Members. 

1st Clause. The senators and representatives shall 
receive a compensation for their services, to be ascer- 
tained by law, and paid out of the treasury of the 
United States. They shall, in all cases except treason, 
felony, and breach of the peace, be privileged from 
arrest during their attendance at the session of their 



184 Prose 

respective houses, and in going to and returning from 
the same ; and for any speech or debate in either house, 
they shall not be questioned in any other place. 

2d Clause. No senator or representative shall, dur- 
ing the time for which he was elected, be appointed to 
any civil office under the authority of the United States, 
which shall have been created, or the emoluments 
whereof shall have been increased during such time; 
and no person holding any office under the United 
States shall be a member of either house during his 
continuance in office. 



Section VII. Mode of passing Lazvs. 

isf Clause. -All bills for raising revenue shall origi- 
nate in the House of Representatives ; but the Senate 
may propose or concur with amendments as on other 
bills. 

2d Clause. Every bill which shall have passed the 
House of Representatives and the Senate shall, before 
it become a law, be presented to the President of 
the United States ; if he approve he shall sign it, but 
if not he shall return it, with his objections, to that 
house in which it shall have originated, who shall enter 
the objections at large on their journal, and proceed 
to reconsider it. If after such reconsideration two- 
thirds of that house shall agree to pass the bill, it 
shall be sent, together with the objections, to the other 
house, by which it shall likewise be reconsidered, and 
if approved by two-thirds of that house, it shall be- 
come a law. But in all such cases the votes of both 
houses shall be determined by yeas and nays, and the 
names of the persons voting for and against the bill 
shall be entered on the journal of each house respect- 
ively. If any bill shall not be returned by the Presi- 
dent within ten days (Sundays excepted) after it shall 
have been presented to him, the same shall be a law, 
in like manner as if he had signed it, unless the Con- 



Prose 185 

gress by their adjournment prevent its return, in 
which case it shall not be a law. 

3t/ Clause. Every order, resolution, or vote to 
which the concurrence of the Senate and House of 
Representatives may be necessary (except on a ques- 
tion of adjournment) shall be presented to the Presi- 
dent of the United States ; and before the same shall 
take effect, shall be approved by him, or being dis- 
approved by him, shall be repassed by two-thirds of 
the Senate and House of Representatives, according 
to the rules and limitations prescribed in the case of 
a bill. 

Section VHI. Powers granted to Congress. 

The Congress shall have power — 

i^^ Clause. To lay and collect taxes, duties, im- 
posts, and excises, to pay the debts, and provide for 
the common defence and general welfare of the United 
States; but all duties, imposts, and excises shall be 
uniform throughout the United States; 

2d Clause. To borrow money on the credit of the 
United States; 

3d Clause. To regulate commerce with foreign 
nations, and among the several States, and with the 
Indian tribes ; 

4tli Clause. To establish a uniform rule of 
naturalisation, and uniform laws on the subject of 
bankruptcies throughout the United States ; 

^th Clause. To coin money, regulate the value 
thereof, and of foreign coin, and fix the standard of 
weights and measures; 

6th Clause. To provide for the punishment of 
counterfeiting the securities and current coin of the 
United States; 

yth Clause. To establish post-offices and post- 
roads ; 

Sth Clause. To promote the progress of science 
and useful arts, by securing for limited times to au- 



1 86 Prose 

thors and inventors the exclusive right to their re- 
spective writings and discoveries ; 

gth Clause. To constitute tribunals inferior to the 
Supreme Court; 

lOth Clause. To define and punish piracies and 
felonies committed on the high seas, and offences 
against the law of nations; 

nth Clause. To declare war, grant letters of 
marque and reprisal, and make rules concerning cap- 
tures on land and water ; 

I2th Clause. To raise and support armies ; but no 
appropriation of money to that use shall be for a 
longer term than two years ; 

i3^/j Clause. To provide and maintain a navy; 

i^th Clause. To make rules for the government 
and regulation of the land and naval forces ; 

i^th Clause. To provide for calling forth the 
militia to execute the laws of the Union, suppress in- 
surrections, and repel invasions ; 

i6th Clause. To provide for organising, arming, 
and disciplining the militia, and for governing such 
part of them as may be employed in the service of 
the United States, reserving to the States respectively 
the appointment of the officers, and the authority of 
training the militia according to the discipline pre- 
scribed by Congress; 

lyth Clause. To exercise exclusive legislation in 
all cases whatsoever, over such district (not exceeding 
ten miles square) as may, by cession of particular 
States, and the acceptance of Congress, become the 
seat of the Government of the United States ; and to 
exercise like authority over all places purchased by 
the consent of the legislature of the State in which 
the same shall be, for the erection of forts, magazines, 
arsenals, dock-yards, and other needful buildings; — 
and 

i8fA Clause. To make all laws which shall be 
necessary and proper for carrying into execution the 



Prose 187 

foregoing powers, and all other powers vested by this 
Constitution in the government of the United States, 
or in any department or officer thereof. 

Section IX. Powers denied to the United States. 

ist Clause. The migration or importation of such 
persons as any of the States now existing shall think 
proper to admit, shall not be prohibited by the Con- 
gress prior to the year one thousand eight hundred 
and eight, but a tax or duty may be imposed on such 
importation, not exceeding ten dollars for each person. 

2d Clause. The privilege of the writ of habeas 
corpus shall not be suspended, unless when in cases 
of rebellion or invasion the public safety may re- 
quire it. 

3 J Clause. No bill of attainder or ex post facto 
law shall be passed. 

4th Clause. No capitation, or other direct tax shall 
be laid unless in proportion to the census or enumera- 
tion hereinbefore directed to be taken. 

^th Clause. No tax or duty shall be laid on arti- 
cles exported from any State. 

6th Clause. No preference shall be given by any 
regulation of commerce or revenue to the ports of 
one State over those of another; nor shall vessels 
bound to, or from, one State, be obliged to enter, clear, 
or pay duties in another. 

yth Clause. No money shall be drawn from the 
treasury, but in consequence of appropriations made 
by law ; and a regular statement and account of the 
receipts and expenditures of all public money shall be 
published from time to time. 

Sth Clause. No title of nobility shall be granted 
by the United States; and no person holding any of- 
fice of profit or trust under them shall, without the 
consent of Congress, accept of any present, emolu- 
ment, office, or title, of any kind whatever, from any 
king, prince, or foreign State. • 



I 88 Prose 

Section X. Powers denied to the States. 

1st Clause. No State shall enter into any treaty, 
alliance, or confederation ; grant letters of marque and 
reprisal; coin money; emit bills of credit; make any- 
thing but gold and silver coin a tender in payment of 
debts; pass any bill of attainder, ex post facto law, 
or law impairing the obligation of contracts, or grant 
any title of nobility. 

2d Clause. No State shall, without the consent of 
the Congress, lay any imposts or duties on imports or 
exports, except what may be absolutely necessary for 
executing its inspection laws ; and the net produce of 
all duties and imposts, laid by any State on imports 
or exports, shall be for the use of the treasury of the 
United States; and all such laws shall be subject to 
the revision and control of the Congress. 

T,d Clause. No State shall, without the consent of 
Congress, lay any duty of tonnage, keep troops, or 
ships of war in time of peace, enter into any agree- 
ment or compact with another State or with a foreign 
power, or engage in war, unless actually invaded, or 
in such imminent danger as will not admit of delay. 

ARTICLE II. The Executive Department. 
Section I. President and Vice-President. 

ist Clause. The executive power shall be vested in 
a President of the United States of America. He 
shall hold his office during the term of four years, 
and, together with the Vice-President, chosen for the 
same term, be elected as follows : 

2d Clause. Each State shall appoint, in such man- 
ner as the legislature thereof may direct, a number 
of electors, equal to the whole number of senators 
and representatives to which the State may be entitled 
in the Congress. But no senator or representative, 



Prose 189 

or person holding an office of trust or profit under 
the United States, shall be appointed an elector. 

Section IL Powers of the President. 

1st Clause. The President shall be commander-in- 
chief of the army and navy of the United States, and 
of the militia of the several States, when called into 
the actual service of the United States; he may re- 
quire the opinion, in writing, of the principal officer 
in each of the executive departments, upon any sub- 
ject relating to the duties of their respective offices, 
and he shall have power to grant reprieves and par- 
dons for offences against the United States, except in 
cases of impeachment. 

2d Clause. He shall have power, by and with the 
advice and consent of the Senate, to make treaties, 
provided two-thirds of the senators present concur; 
and he shall nominate, and by and with the advice 
and consent of the Senate, shall appoint, ambassadors, 
other public ministers and consuls, judges of the Su- 
preme Court, and all other officers of the United 
States, whose appointments are not herein otherwise 
provided for, and which shall be established by law ; 
but the Congress may by law vest the appointment 
of such inferior officers, as they think proper, in the 
President alone, in the courts of law, or in the heads 
of departments. 

3d Clause. The President shall have power to fill 
up all vacancies that may happen during the recess 
of the Senate, by granting commissions, which shall 
expire at the end of their next session. 

Section III. Duties of the President. 

He shall from time to time give to the Congress 
information of the state of the Union, and recom- 
mend to their consideration such measures as he shall 
judge necessary and expedient ; he may, on extraordi- 
nary occasions, convene both houses, or either ^of them, 



190 Prose 

and in case of disagreement between them with re- 
spect to the time of adjournment, he may adjourn 
them to such time as he shall think proper; he shall 
receive ambassadors and other public ministers; he 
shall take care that the laws be faithfully executed, 
and shall commission all the officers of the United 
States. 

Section IV. — Impeachment of the President. 

The President, Vice-President, and all civil officers 
of the United States, shall be removed from office on 
impeachment for, and conviction of, treason, bribery, 
or other high crimes and misdemeanours. 

ARTICLE III. The Judicial Department. 
Section I. The United States Courts. 

The judicial power of the United States shall be 
vested in one Supreme Court, and in such inferior 
courts as the Congress may from time to time ordain 
and establish. The judges, both of the Supreme and 
inferior courts, shall hold their offices during good 
behaviour, and shall, at stated times, receive for their 
services a compensation, which shall not be diminished 
during their continuance in office. 

Section II. Jurisdiction of the United States Courts. 

1st Clause. The judicial power shall extend to all 
cases, in law and equity, arising under this Constitu- 
tion, the laws of the United States, and treaties made, 
or which shall be made, under their authority; to all 
cases affecting ambassadors, other public ministers, 
and consuls; to all cases of admiralty and maritime 
jurisdiction ; to controversies to which the United 
States shall be a party; to controversies between two 
or more States; between a State and citizens of an- 
other State ; between citizens of different States ; be- 



Prose 191 

tween citizens of the same State claiming lands under 
grants of different States, and between a State, or the 
citizens thereof, and foreign states, citizens, or sub- 
jects. 

2d Clause, In all cases affecting ambassadors, 
other public ministers and consuls, and those in which 
a State shall be a party, the Supreme Court shall have 
original jurisdiction. In all the other cases before 
mentioned, the Supreme Court shall have appellate 
jurisdiction, both as to law and fact, with such excep- 
tions and under such regulations as the Congress shall 
make. 

3(f Clause. The trial of all crimes, except in cases 
of impeachment, shall be by jury; and such trial shall 
be held in the State where the said crimes shall have 
been committed; but when not committed within any 
State, the trial shall be at such place or places as the 
Congress may by law have directed. 

Section III. Treason. 

1st Clause. Treason against the United States 
shall consist only in levying war against them, or in 
adhering to their enemies, giving them aid and com- 
fort. No person shall be convicted of treason unless 
on the testimony of two witnesses to the same overt 
act, or on confession in open court. 

2d Clause. The Congress shall have power to de- 
clare the punishment of treason, but no attainder of 
treason shall work corruption of blood, or forfeiture 
except during the life of the person attainted. 

ARTICLE IV. Miscellaneous Provisions. 
Section I. State Records. 

Full faith and credit shall be given in each State 
to the public acts, records, and judicial proceedings of 
every other State. And the Congress may by general 



192 Prose 

laws prescribe the manner in which such acts, records, 
and proceedings shall be proved, and the effect thereof. 

Section II. Privileges of Citizens, 

1st Clause. The citizens of each State shall be en- 
titled to all privileges and immunities of citizens in the 
several States. 

2d Clause. A person charged in any State with 
treason, felony, or other crime, who shall flee from 
justice, and be found in another State, shall, on de- 
mand of the executive authority of the State from 
which he fled, be delivered up, to be removed to the 
State having jurisdiction of the crime. 

^d Clause. No person held to service or labour in 
one State, under the laws thereof, escaping into an- 
other, shall, in consequence of any law or regulation 
therein, be discharged from such service or labour, but 
shall be delivered up on claim of the party to whom 
such service or labour may be due. 

Section III. New States and Territories. 

1st Clause. New States may be admitted by the 
Congress into this Union; but no new State shall be 
formed or erected within the jurisdiction of any other 
State; nor any State be formed by the junction of two 
or more States, or parts of States, without the con- 
sent of the legislatures of the States concerned as well 
as of the Congress. 

2d Clause. The Congress shall have power to dis- 
pose of and make all needful rules and regulations 
respecting the territory or other property belonging 
to the United States; and nothing in this Constitution 
shall be so construed as to prejudice any claim of the 
United States or of any particular State. 

Section IV. Guarantees to the States. 

The United States shall guarantee to every State in 
this Union a republican form of government, and 



Prose 193 

shall protect each of them against invasion; and on 
application of the legislature, or of the executive 
(when the legislature cannot be convened), against do- 
mestic violence. 

ARTICLE V. Powers of Amendment. 

The Congress, whenever two-thirds of both houses 
shall deem it necessary, shall propose amendments to 
this Constitution, or, on the application of the legisla- 
tures of two-thirds of the several States, shall call 
a convention for proposing amendments, which, in 
either case, shall be valid, to all intents and purposes, 
as part of this Constitution, when ratified by the leg- 
islatures of three-fourths of the several States, or by 
conventions in three-fourths thereof, as the one or the 
other mode of ratification may be proposed by the 
Congress : provided that no amendment which may be 
made prior to the year one thousand eight hundred 
and eight shall in any manner affect the first and 
fourth clauses in the ninth section of the first article ; 
and that no State, without its consent, shall be de- 
prived of its equal suffrage in the Senate. 

ARTICLE VL Public Debt, Supremacy of the 
Constitution, Oath of Office, Religious Test. 

1st Clause. All debts contracted and engagements 
entered into before the adoption of this Constitution, 
shall be as valid against the United States under this 
Constitution, as under the Confederation. 

2d Clause. This Constitution, and the laws of the 
United States which shall be made in pursuance 
thereof, and all treaties made, or which shall be made, 
under the authority of the United States, shall be 
the supreme law of the land; and the judges in every 
State shall be bound thereby, anything in the Consti- 
tution or laws of any State to the contrary notwith- 
standing. • 



194 Prose 

3(i Clause. The senators and representatives be- 
fore mentioned, and the members of the several State 
legislatures, and all executive and judicial officers, 
both of the United States and of the several States, 
shall be bound by oath or affirmation to support this 
Constitution; but no religious test shall ever be re- 
quired as a qualification to any office or public trust 
under the United States. 

ARTICLE VII. Ratification of the Constitu- 
tion. 

The ratification of the conventions of nine States 
shall be sufficient for the establishment of this Con- 
stitution between the States so ratifying the same. 

AMENDMENTS 

PROPOSED BY CONGRESS^ AND RATIFIED BY THE LEGIS- 
LATURES OF THE SEVERAL STATES, PURSUANT TO THE 
FIFTH ARTICLE OF THE ORIGINAL CONSTITUTION. 

Article L Freedom of Religion, 

Congress shall make no law respecting an establish- 
ment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise 
thereof ; or abridging the freedom of speech or of the 
press ; or the right of the people peaceably to assem- 
ble, and to petition the government for a redress of 
grievances. 

Article II. Right to bear Arms. 

A well-regulated militia, being necessary to the se- 
curity of a free state, the right of the people to keep 
and bear arms shall not be infringed. 

Article III. Quartering Soldiers on Citizens. 

No soldier shall, in time of peace, be quartered in 
any house without the consent of the owner, nor in 
time of war but in a manner to be prescribed by law. 



Prose 195 

Article IV. Search Warrants. 

The right of the people to be secure in their per- 
sons, houses, papers, and effects, against unreasonable 
searches and seizures, shall not be violated, and no 
warrants shall issue but upon probable cause, sup- 
ported by oath or affirmation, and particularly de- 
scribing the place to be searched, and the persons or 
things to be seized. 

Article V. Trial for Crime. 

No person shall be held to answer for a capital, or 
otherwise infamous crime, unless on a presentment 
or indictment of a grand jury, except in cases arising 
in the land or naval forces, or in the militia, when 
in actual service in time of war or public danger ; nor 
shall any person be subject for the same offence to be 
twice put in jeopardy of life or limb ; nor shall be com- 
pelled in any criminal case to be a witness against 
himself, nor be deprived of life, liberty, or property 
without due process of law ; nor shall private property 
be taken for public use without just compensation. 

Article VI. Rights of Accused Persons. 

In all criminal prosecutions, the accused shall en- 
joy the right to a speedy and public trial by an im- 
partial jury of the State and district wherein the crime 
shall have been committed, which district shall have 
been previously ascertained by law, and to be informed 
of the nature and cause of the accusation; to be con- 
fronted with the witnesses against him; to have com- 
pulsory process for obtaining witnesses in his favour, 
and to have the assistance of counsel for his defence. 

Article VII. Suits at Common Law. 

In suits at common law, where the value in con- 
troversy shall exceed twenty dollars, the right of trial 



196 Prose 

by jury shall be preserved, and no fact tried by a 
jury shall be otherwise re-examined in any court of 
the United States than according to the rules of the 
common law. 

Article VIII. Excessive Bail. 

Excessive bail shall not be required, nor excessive 
fines imposed, nor cruel and unusual punishments in- 
flicted. 

Article IX. Rights Retained by the People. 

The enumeration in the Constitution of certain 
rights shall not be construed to deny or disparage 
others retained by the people. 

Article X. Reserved Rights of the States. 

The powers not delegated to the United States by 
the Constitution, nor prohibited by it to the States, 
are reserved to the States respectively, or to the 
people. 

Article XL 

The judicial power of the United States shall not 
be construed to extend to any suit, in law or equity, 
commenced or prosecuted against one of the United 
States by citizens of another State, or by citizens or 
subjects of any foreign state. 

Article XII. 

1st Clause. The electors shall meet in their respect- 
ive States and vote by ballot for President and Vice- 
President, one of whom, at least, shall not be an inhab- 
itant of the same State with themselves; they shall 
name in their ballots the person voted for as President, 
and in distinct ballots the person voted for as Vice- 
President, and they shall make distinct lists of all per- 
sons voted for as President, and of all persons voted 



Prose 197 

for as Vice-President, and of the number of votes for 
each, which hsts they shall sign and certify and trans- 
mit sealed to the seat of the government of the United 
States, directed to the President of the Senate; the 
President of the Senate shall, in presence of the Senate 
and House of Representatives, open all the certificates, 
and the votes shall then be counted; the person hav- 
ing the greatest number of votes for President shall 
be the President, if such number be a majority of the 
whole number of electors appointed; and if no per- 
son have such majority, then from the persons hav- 
ing the highest numbers, not exceeding three on the 
list of those voted for as President, the House of 
Representatives shall choose immediately, by ballot, 
the President. But in choosing the President, the 
votes shall be taken by States, the representation from 
each State having one vote ; a quorum for this purpose 
shall consist of a member or members from two-thirds 
of the States, and a majority of all the States shall 
be necessary to a choice. And if the House of Rep- 
resentatives shall not choose a President whenever the 
right of choice shall devolve upon them, before the 
fourth day of March next following, then the Vice- 
President shall act as President, as in the case of the 
death or other constitutional disability of the Presi- 
dent. 

2d Clause. The person having the greatest num- 
ber of votes as Vice-President shall be the Vice-Presi- 
dent, if such number be a majority of the whole num- 
ber of electors appointed; and if no person have a 
majority, then from the two highest numbers on the 
list the Senate shall choose the Vice-President; a 
quorum for the purpose shall consist of two-thirds of 
the whole number of senators, and a majority of the 
whole number shall be necessary to a choice. 

3c/ Clause. But no person constitutionally ineligi- 
ble to the office of President shall be eligible to that 
of Vice-President of the United States. 



198 Prose 

4th Clause. The Congress may determine the time 
of choosing the electors, and the day on which they 
shall give their votes, which day shall be the same 
throughout the United States. 

^th Clause. No person except a natural-born citi- 
zen, or a citizen of the United States at the time of the 
adoption of this Constitution, shall be eligible to the 
office of President ; neither shall any person be eligible 
to that office who shall not have attained to the age of 
thirty-five years, and been fourteen years a resident 
within the United States. 

6th Clause. In case of the removal of the Presi- 
dent from office, or of his death, resignation, or in- 
ability to discharge the powers and duties of the said 
office, the same shall devolve on the Vice-President; 
and the Congress may by law provide for the case of 
removal, death, resignation, or inability, both of the 
President and Vice-President, declaring what officer 
shall then act as President, and such officer shall act 
accordingly, until the disability be removed, or a Presi- 
dent shall be elected. 

yth Clause. The President shall, at stated times, 
receive for his services a compensation, which shall 
neither be increased nor diminished during the period 
for which he shall have been elected, and he shall 
not receive within that period any other emolument 
from the United States, or any of them. 

Sth Clause. Before he enter on the execution of his 
office, he shall take the following oath or affirmation : — 

'T do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will faith- 
fully execute the office of President of the United 
States, and will, to the best of my ability, preserve, 
protect, and defend the Constitution of the United 
States." 

Article XIII. Slavery. 

Section I. Neither slavery nor involuntary servi- 
tude, except as a punishment for crime, whereof the 



Prose 199 

party shall have been duly convicted, shall exist within 
the United States, or any place subject to their juris- 
diction. 

Sec. II. Congress shall have power to enforce this 
article by appropriate legislation. 

Article XIV. 

Section I. All persons born or naturalised in the 
United States, and subject to the jurisdiction thereof, 
are citizens of the United States and of the State 
wherein they reside. No State shall make or enforce 
any law which shall abridge the privileges or immuni- 
ties of citizens of the United States; nor shall any 
State deprive any person of life, liberty, or property, 
without due process of law, nor deny any person 
within its jurisdiction the equal protection of the laws. 

Sec. II. Representatives shall be apportioned 
among the several States according to their respective 
numbers, counting the whole number of persons in 
each State, excluding Indians not taxed. But when 
the right to vote at any election for the choice of elect- 
ors for President and Vice-President of the United 
States, representatives in Congress, the executive and 
judicial officers of a State, or the members of the 
legislature thereof, is denied to any of the male in- 
habitants of such State, being twenty-one years of age, 
and citizens of the United States, or in any way 
abridged, except for participation in rebellion or other 
crime, the basis of representation therein shall be re- 
duced in the proportion which the number of ^such 
male citizens shall bear to the whole number of male 
citizens twenty-one years of age in such State. 

Sec. III. No person shall be a senator or repre- 
sentative in Congress, or elector of President and Vice- 
President, or hold any office, civil or military, under 
the United States, or under any State, who having 
previously taken an oath, as a member of Congress, or 
as an officer of the United States, or as a member of any 



200 Prose 

State legislature, or as an executive or judicial officer 
of any State, to support the Constitution of the United 
States, shall have engaged in insurrection or rebellion 
against the same, or given aid or comfort to the 
enemies thereof. But Congress may, by a vote of two- 
thirds of each house, remove such disability. 

Sec. IV. The validity of the public debt of the 
United States, authorised by law, including debts in- 
curred for payment of pensions and bounties for serv- 
ices in suppressing insurrection or rebellion, shall not 
be questioned. But neither the United States nor any 
State shall assume or pay any debt or obligation in- 
curred in aid of insurrection or rebellion against the 
United States, or any claim for the loss or emancipa- 
tion of any slave; but all such debts, obligations, and 
claims shall be held illegal and void. 

Sec. V. The Congress shall have power to enforce, 
by appropriate legislation, the provisions of this article. 

Article XV. 

Section I. The right of citizens of the United 
States to vote shall not be denied or abridged by the 
United States, or by any State, on account of race, 
colour, or previous condition of servitude. 

Sec. II. The Congress shall have power to enforce 
this article by appropriate legislation. 

As Others See Us. 

GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS. 1824-1892. ABRIDGED FROM 
'TRUE AND L" 

We had two lessons a week with the practice teachers, and studied a 
lovely little story written by George William Curtis entitled Prue and I. 
It brings out the idea, "Have we any right to judge other people's 
characters, unless we mean to do them good, and make them better by 
it?" I would rather have written that story than be the Queen of 
England. (From the composition of a 7th grade child.) 

"A Curtis Memorial Window!" And not a word that Curtis wrote, 
in "The Course of Study"! "What good will the Monument dol" 

You know my grandfather Titbottom was a West 
Indian. I remember his white hair, and his calm smile, 



Prose 201 

and how, not long before he died, he called me to 
him, and laying his hand upon my head, said to me: 

''My child, the world is not this great sunny piazza, 
nor life the fairy stories which the women tell you 
here, as you sit in their laps. I shall soon be gone, 
but I want to leave with you some memento of my 
love for you, and I know of nothing more valuable 
than these spectacles, which your grandmother brought 
from her native island, when she arrived here one fine 
summer morning, long ago." 

At the same time, he handed me the spectacles. 

Instinctively I put them on, and looked at my grand- 
father. But I saw no grandfather, no piazza, no flow- 
ered dressing-gown ; I saw only a luxuriant palm tree, 
waving broadly over a tranquil landscape ; pleasant 
homes clustered around it ; gardens teeming with fruit 
and flowers ; flocks quietly feeding ; birds wheeling and 
chirping. 

But from the moment that I received the gift of 
the spectacles, I could not resist their fascination, and 
I withdrew into myself, and became a solitary boy. 
There were not many companions for me of my own 
age, and they gradually left me, or, at least, had not 
a hearty sympathy with me; for, if they teased me, I 
pulled out my spectacles and surveyed them so seri- 
ously that they acquired a kind of awe of me, and evi- 
dently regarded my grandfather's gift as a concealed 
magical weapon which might be dangerously drawn 
upon them at any moment. Whenever, in our games, 
there were quarrels and high words, and I began to 
feel about my dress and to wear a grave look, they 
all took the alarm, and shouted, "Look out for Tit- 
bottom's spectacles," and scattered like a flock of 
scared sheep. 

My grandmother sent me to school, but I looked 
at the master, and saw that he was a smooth round 
ferule, or an improper noun, or a vulgar fraction, and 
refused to obey him. Or he was a piece of string, a 



202 Prose 

rag, a willow-wand, and I had a contemptuous pity. 
But one was a well of cool, deep water, and looking 
suddenly in, one day, I saw the stars. 

That one gave me all my schooling. With him I 
used to walk by the sea, and, as we strolled and the 
waves plunged in long legions before us, I looked at 
him through the spectacles, and as his eyes dilated with 
the boundless view, and his chest heaved with an im- 
possible desire, I saw Xerxes and his army, tossed and 
glittering, rank upon rank, multitude upon multitude, 
out of sight, but ever regularly advancing, and with 
confused roar of ceaseless music, prostrating them- 
selves in abject homage. Or, as with arms out- 
stretched and hair streaming on the wind, he chanted 
full lines of the resounding Iliad, I saw Homer pacing 
the ^gean sands of the Greek sunsets of forgotten 
times. 

I tried to teach, for I loved children. But if any- 
thing excited a suspicion of my pupils, and putting on 
my spectacles, I saw that I was fondling a snake, or 
smelling at a bud with a worm in it, I sprang up in 
horror and ran away; or, if it seemed to me through 
the glasses, that a cherub smiled upon me, or a rose 
was blooming in my button-hole, then I felt myself 
imperfect and impure, not fit to be leading and train- 
ing what was so essentially superior to myself, and 
I kissed the children and left them weeping and won- 
dering. 

Once, I beheld — myself, reflected in the mirror. 

Having seen myself, I was compelled to see others 
properly to understand my relations to them. 

There is your neighbour over the way, who passes 
for a woman who has failed in her career, because she 
is an old maid. People wag solemn heads of pity, and 
say that she made so great a mistake in not marry- 
ing. One day, I raised my glasses, and glanced at her. 
I did not see the old maid whom we all pitied for a 
secret sorrow, but a woman whose nature was a tropic. 



Prose 203 

in which the sun shone, and birds sang, and flowers 
bloomed forever. 

I rubbed the glasses well, and looked at Preciosa, 
and saw a white lily, whose stem was broken, but 
which was fresh, and luminous, and fragrant still. 

1 saw, that although a flower may have lost its hold 
upon earthly moisture, it may still bloom as sweetly, 
fed by the dews of heaven. 

High Life. 

(Permission of Houghton, Mifflin & Company.) 

HENRY DAVID THOREAU, 1817-1862. 

Earth gives us hint and rumour of a divine beauty that broods above 
us, an ideal splendour that completes the real. To express that beauty 
is the perpetual aspiration of the poet. Poetry expresses this beauty 
in words; religion in deeds. — Edwin Markham, in "The Poetry of 
Jesus." 

However mean your life is, meet it and live it; do 
not shun it and call it hard names. It looks poorest 
when you are richest. The fault-finder will find faults 
even in Paradise. Love your life, poor as it is. You 
may perhaps have some pleasant, thrilling, glorious 
hours, even in a poor-house. The setting sun is re- 
flected from the windows of the almshouse as brightly 
as from the rich man's abode ; the snow melts before 
its door as early in the spring. I do not see but a 
quiet mind may live as contentedly there, and have 
as cheering thoughts, as in a palace. The town's poor 
seem to me often to live the most independent lives 
of any. Maybe they are simply great enough to 
receive without misgiving. Most think that they are 
above being supported by the town; but it oftener 
happens that they are not above supporting them- 
selves by dishonest means, which should be more 
disreputable. Cultivate poverty like a garden herb, 
like sage. Do not trouble yourself much to get new 
things, whether clothes or friends. Turn the old; re- 
turn to them. Things do not change ; we change. Sell 
your clothes and keep your thoughts. God will see 



204 Prose 

that you do not want society. If I were confined to 
a corner of a garret all my days, like a spider, the 
world would be just as large to me while I had my 
thoughts about me. 

Do not seek so anxiously to be developed, to sub- 
ject yourself to many influences to be played on; it 
is all dissipation. Humility, like darkness, reveals the 
heavenly lights. The shadows of poverty and mean- 
ness gather around us, and lo! creation zuidens to our 
view. We are often reminded that if there were be- 
stowed on us the wealth of Croesus, our aims must 
still be the same, and our means essentially the same. 
Moreover, if you are restricted in your range by pov- 
erty, if you cannot buy books and newspapers, for 
instance, you are but confined to the most significant 
and vital experiences; you are compelled to deal with 
the material which yields the most sugar and the most 
starch. It is life near the bone that is sweetest. 
You are defended from being a trifler. No man loses 
ever on a lower level by magnanimity on a higher. 
Superfluous wealth can buy superfluities only. Money 
is not required to buy one necessary of the soul. 

Prophesying after the Event. 

CHARLES KINGSLEY, 1819-1875. FROM "WATER BABIES." 

Once on a time, there were two brothers. One was 
called Prometheus, because he always looked before 
him, and boasted that he was wise beforehand. The 
other was called Epimetheus, because he always looked 
behind him, and did not boast at all; but said hum- 
bly, like the Irishman, that he had sooner prophesy 
after the event. 

Prometheus was a very clever fellow, of course, 
and invented all sorts of wonderful things. 

But Epimetheus was a very slow fellow, certainly, 
and went among men for a clod, and a muflf, and a 
milksop, and a slow-coach, and a bloke, and a boodle, 



Prose 205 

and so forth. And very little he did, for many years : 
but what he did, he never had to do over again. 

And what happened at last ? There came to the two 
brothers the most beautiful creature that ever was 
seen, Pandora by name ; which means, All the gifts of 
the Gods. But because she had a strange box in her 
hand, this fanciful Prometheus, who was always set- 
tling what was going to happen, would have noth- 
ing to do with pretty Pandora and her box. 

But Epimetheus took her and the box as he took 
everything that came ; and married her for better or for 
worse, as every man ought, whenever he has even the 
chance of a good wife. And they opened the box 
between them, of course, to see what was inside: for, 
else, of what possible use could it have been to them? 

And out flew all the ills which flesh is heir to ; all the 
children of the four great bogies, Self-will, Ignorance, 
Fear, and Dirt — for instance: 

Measles, Quacks, 

Scarlatina, Unpaid bills, 

Idols, Tight stays, 

Hooping-coughs, Potatoes, 

Wars, Bad Wine, 

Peacemongers, Despots, 

Famines, Demagogues. 

And, worst of all, Naughty Boys and Girls. But 
one thing remained at the bottom of the box, and 
that was, Hope. 

So Epimetheus got a great deal of trouble, as most 
men do in this world : but he got the three best things 
in the world into the bargain — a good wife, and ex- 
perience, and hope: while Prometheus had just as 
much trouble, and a great deal more of his own mak- 
ing; with nothing beside, save fancies spun out of his 
own brain, as a spider spins her web out of her 
stomach. 



2o6 Prose 

Prometheus kept on looking before him so far ahead, 
that as he was running about with a box of lucifers 
(which were the only useful things he ever invented, 
and do as much harm as good), he trod on his own 
nose, and tumbled down, whereby he set the Thames 
on fire ; and they have hardly put it out again yet. 
So he had to be chained to the top of a mountain, with 
a vulture by him to give him a peck whenever he 
stirred, lest he should turn the whole world upside 
down with his prophecies and his theories. 

But stupid old Epimetheus went working and grub- 
bing on, with the help of his wife Pandora, always 
looking behind him to see what had happened, till he 
really learnt to know now and then what would hap- 
pen next ; and understood so well which side his bread 
was buttered, and which way the cat jumped, that he 
began to make things which would work, and go on 
working, too ; to till and drain the ground, and to make 
looms, and ships, and railroads, and steam ploughs^ 
and electric telegraphs, and all the things which you 
see in the Great Exhibition; and to foretell famine, 
and bad weather, and the price of stocks ; till at last he 
grew very rich, and as fat as a farmer, and people 
thought twice before they meddled with him, but only 
once before they asked him to help them ; for, because 
he earned his money well, he could afiford to spend it 
well likewise. 

And his children are the men of science, who get 
good lasting work done in the world ; but the children 
of Prometheus are the fanatics, and the theorists, and 
the bigots, and the bores, and the noisy windy people, 
who go telling silly folk what will happen, instead of 
looking to see what has happened already. 



Prose 207 



The Model Cotton Mill. 

JOHN TROTWOOD MOORE, 1858. 

In honour of that notable business-woman in Boston who intends that 
all of her resource-producing employees shall have a home, at least, at 
the end of life; not as a matter of charity but as mere justice. To 
grab the initiative of the worker, to appropriate his time, his life, his 
interest, his generosity, his prestige, to steal his genius, and live in a 
castle leaving him destitute, is the vulgar habit of the hog. "Swine- 
hood hath no remedy" except to furnish roast pig. 

"Now, it's this way, my brethren: God made cot- 
ton for a mill. You can't get aroun' that; and the 
mill is to give people wuck an' this wuck is to clothe 
the worl'. That's all plain an' all good, because it's 
from God. Man made the bad of it — child-labour, and 
overwuck and poor pay and the terrible everlastin'- 
grind and foul air an' dirt an' squaller an' death. 

"The trouble with the worl' to-day is that it don't 
carry God into business. Why should we not be kinder 
an' mo' liberal with each other in business matters? 
We are unselfish in everything but business. 

"The soul of trade is selfishness, an' Charity never 
is invited over her doorway. 

"It's funny how we're livin', It's amusin', it is 
— our ethics of Christianity. We've baptised every- 
thing but business. We give to the church an' rob 
the poor. We weep over misfortune an' steal from 
the unfortunate. We give a robe to Charity one day 
and filch it the nex'. We lay gifts at the altar of the 
Temple of Kindness for the Virgin therein, but if we 
caught her out on the highways of trade an' commerce 
we'd steal her an' sell her into slavery. An' after 
she was dead we'd go deep into our pockets to put 
up a monument over her ! 

"We weep an' rob, an' smile an' steal, an' laugh 
an' knife, an' wring the hand of friendship while we 
step on her toes with our brogans of business. Can't 
we be hones' without bein' selfish, fair without 
graspin', make a profit without wantin' it all? Is it 



2o8 Prose 

possible that Christ's rehgion has gone into every nook 
an' corner of the worl' an' yet missed the great high- 
way of business, the everyday road of dollars an' cents, 
profit an' loss ! 

"So I am goin' to build the mill an' run it like God 
intended it should be run, an' I am goin' to put, for 
once, the plan of salvation into business, if it busts 
me an' the plan too! For if it can't stand a business 
test it ought to bust ! 

''There are two things in the worl', that is as plain 
as God could write them without tellin' it Himself 
from the clouds. The first is that the money of the 
worl' was intended for all the worl' that reaches out 
a hand an' works for it. 

"The other is that every man who works is entitled 
to a home. 

"It was never intended for one man, or one cor- 
poration or one trust or one king or one anything else, 
to own more than his share of the money of the 
worl', no matter how they get it. Every man who 
piles up mo' money than he needs — actually needs — 
in life, robs every other man or woman or child in 
the worl' that pinches and slaves and starves for it 
in vain. Every man who makes a big fortune leaves 
just that many wrecked homes in his path." 



Vindication of the Press. 

JOHN MILTON, 1608-1674- 

As a child, I was greatly impressed by this "reading-lesson" and have 
never lost my affection for it. But then, have you ever seen the owner 
of stock in all the newspapers of a large city standing over a group of 
reporters and dictating to them what to write in his own personal 
interest? The nation's Muse in chains in the hands of a private interest! 

Methinks I see in my mind a noble and puissant 
Nation rousing herself like a strong man after sleep, 
and shaking her invincible locks. Methinks I see her 
as an Eagle moulting her mighty youth, and kindling 
her undazzled eyes at the full mid-day beam, purging 



Prose 209 

and unsealing her long abused sight at the fountain 
itself of heavenly radiance, while the whole noise of 
timorous and flocking birds, with those also that love 
the twilight, flutter about amazed at what she means, 
and in their envious gabble would prognosticate a year 
of sects and schisms. 

What should ye do then, should ye suppress all this 
flowery crop of knowledge and new light, sprung up 
and yet springing daily in this City, should ye set an 
Oligarchy of twenty engrossers over it, to bring a 
famine upon our minds again, when we shall know 
nothing but what is measured to us by their bushel? 
Believe it. Lords and Commons, they who counsel ye 
to such a suppressing do as good as bid ye suppress 
yourselves: and I will soon show how. If it be de- 
sired to know the immediate cause of all this free 
writing and free speaking, there cannot be assigned a 
truer than your own mild and free and human gov- 
ernment : it is the liberty. Lords and Commons, which 
your own valorous and happy counsels have purchased 
us, liberty which is the nurse of all great wits ; this 
is that which hath rarefied and enlightened our spirits 
like the influence of heaven; this is that which hath 
enfranchised, enlarged, and lifted up our apprehen- 
sions degrees above themselves. Ye cannot make us 
now less capable, less strong, less eagerly pursuing of 
the truth, unless ye first make yourselves, that made 
us so, less the lovers, less the founders of our true 
liberty ! We can grow ignorant again, brutish, formal, 
and slavish, as ye found us : but you then must first 
become that which ye cannot be, oppressive, arbitrary 
and tyrannous, as they were from whom ye have freed 
us. That our hearts are now more capacious, our 
thoughts more erected to the search and expectation 
of the greatest and exactest things, is the issue of your 
own virtue propagated in. us; ye cannot suppress that 
unless ye reinforce an abrogated and merciless law, 
that fathers may despatch at will their own children. 



2IO Prose 

Give me the liberty to know, to utter, and to argue 
freely according to conscience, above all liberties. 

Abraham and the Fire- Worshiper. 

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN, 1706-1790. 

Against intolerance. Intolerance comes from having a mean, little 
opinion of Divinity and "a great conceit of ourselves." 

And it came to pass after these things, that Abra- 
ham sat in the door of his tent about the going down 
of the Sun. 

And behold, a man, bowed with age, came from 
the way of the wilderness, leaning on his staff. And 
Abraham arose and met him, and said unto him, "Turn 
in, I pray thee, and wash thy feet, and tarry all night, 
and thou shalt arise early on the. morrow, and go on 
thy way." But the man said, "Nay, for I will abide 
under this tree." 

And Abraham pressed him greatly; so he turned, 
and they went into the tent, and Abraham baked un- 
leavened bread and they did eat. 

And when Abraham saw that the man blessed not 
God, he said unto him, "Wherefore dost thou not 
worship the most high God, Creator of heaven and 
earth?" And the man answered and said, "I do not 
worship the God thou speakest of, neither do I call upon 
his name; for I have made to myself a God, which 
abideth always in mine house, and provideth me with 
all things." And Abraham's zeal was kindled against 
the man, and he arose and fell upon him, and drove 
him forth with blows into the wilderness. And at 
midnight God called unto Abraham, saying, "Abraham, 
where is the Stranger?" And Abraham answered and 
said, "Lord, he would not worship thee, neither would 
he call upon thy name; therefore have I driven him 
out from before my face into the wilderness." And 
God said, "Have I borne with him these hundred 
ninety and eight years, and nourished him, and clothed 



Prose 211 

him, notwithstanding his rebelHon against me, and 
couldst not thou, that art thyself a sinner, bear with 
him one night?" 

And Abraham said, "Let not the anger of the Lord 
wax hot against his servant; lo, I have sinned; lo, I 
have sinned; forgive me, I pray thee." 

And Abraham arose, and went forth into the wilder- 
ness, and sought diligently for the man, and found 
him, and returned with him to the tent; and when 
he had entreated him kindly, he sent him away on the 
morrow with gifts. 

And God spake again unto Abraham, saying, "For 
this thy sin shall thy seed be afflicted four hundred 
years in a strange land; 

But for thy repentance I will deliver them; and 
they shall come forth with power, and with gladness 
of heart, and with much substance." 

Charity. 

ST. PAUL, 60 A.D. 

Though I speak with the tongues of men and of 
angels, and have not charity, I am become as sound- 
ing brass or a tinkling cymbal. 

And though I have the gift of prophecy, and under- 
stand all mysteries, and all knowledge; and though I 
have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and 
have not charity, I am nothing. 

And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, 
and though I give my body to be burned, and have not 
charity, it profiteth me nothing. 

Charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth 
not; charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, doth 
not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not 
easily provoked, thinketh no evil ; rejoiceth not in in- 
iquity, but rejoiceth in the truth; beareth all things, be- 
lieveth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things. 

Charity never faileth ; but whether there be prophe- 



212 Prose 

cies, they shall fail; whether there be tongues, they 
shall cease; whether there be knowledge, it shall van- 
ish away. 

For we know in part, and we prophesy in part. But 
when that which is perfect is come, then that which is 
in part shall be done away. 

When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood 
as a child, I thought as a child ; but when I became a 
man, I put away childish things. 

For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then 
face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I 
know even as also I am known. 

And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; 
but the greatest of these is charity. 

Contentment. 

MARCUS AURELIUS ANTONINUS, 121-180 A.D. 

Wilt thou, then, my soul, never be good and sim- 
ple and naked, more manifest than the body which 
surrounds thee? Wilt thou never enjoy an affectionate 
and contented disposition? Wilt thou never be full 
and without a want of any kind, longing for noth- 
ing more, nor desiring anything, either animate or in- 
animate, for the enjoyment of pleasure? nor yet de- 
siring time wherein thou shalt have longer enjoyment, 
or place, or pleasant climate, or society of men with 
whom thou mayest live in harmony? but wilt thou be 
satisfied with thy present condition, and pleased with all 
that is about thee ; and wilt thou convince thyself that 
thou hast everything and that it comes from the gods, 
that everything is well for thee, and will be well what- 
ever shall please them, and whatever they shall give 
for the conservation of the perfect living being, the 
good and just and beautiful? Wilt thou never be 
such that thou shalt so dwell in community with 
gods and men as neither to find fault with them at 
all, nor to be condemned by them? 



Prose 213 



Restricted Property. 

ANONYMOUS. 

To Myrtle, whose house "consists of six rooms and a mortgage;" 
and "guests are requested not to be disturbed by the rumbling, gritting 
noise on the roof. It is merely the interest accumulating on the mort- 
gage." 

Mr. President, I understand that the Company 
which you have organised will build a suburban town 
and for this purpose it has purchased a section of 
land. You have bought this land in the bulk and will 
sell it in lots, fifty feet front and two hundred feet 
deep. Each buyer, you say, must pledge himself to. 
erect a house whose cost cannot be less than three 
thousand-five-hundred dollars. "Buy the land at any 
hazard," you say; ''borrow the money to build the 
house and give a mortgage. The value of the property 
is rising. You can sell at any time for twice the sum 
invested." 

I am further instructed, Mr. President, that the 
Company, having no money, has purchased all the 
land on which the town will be built, — on a specula- 
tion, a mortgage, to be paid out of funds collected by 
selling the lots. 

Mr. President, it has been one of the ruling pas- 
sions of my life to pay for what I get when I get it. 
Never to think about a three-thousand-five-hundred 
dollar house on a one-thousand dollar lot when I have 
only fifteen-hundred dollars in the bank. Never to 
make an attempt to live among four-thousand five- 
hundred dollar people when I have only fifteen- 
hundred dollars with which to do it. Money doesn't 
make a town. In other words, why should I, Tom 
Jones, be obliged to worry and get into debt in order 
to live in a three-thousand-five-hundred dollar house 
when other people can do it without worrying and 
getting into debt? Can not Tom Jones in a five- 
hundred-dollar shanty on a one-hundred-dollar lot be 



214 Prose 

just as desirable a citizen as Skipper Ireson in a ten- 
million dollar house on a one-million-dollar lot? Peo- 
ple who must have a three-thousand-five-hundred 
dollar house should wear a placard and have it under- 
stood that that's their price. On no account will I 
make any bargain whatever for anything bigger than 
I have in my bank. Who is there in all this world 
so rich or so great that I should sacrifice my repose 
of spirit and strain my nerves to equal him in the 
cost of my house? 

What kind of a town must it be in which the houses 
are all of one price? Can you imagine it of Ayr, or 
Stratford-on-Avon, or Athens, or Rome ? I do not be- 
lieve in wiping out simple homes. I do not like the 
looks of a town where all the houses are above a cer- 
tain price. It is too monotonous for all the people in 
a place to look as if they had one fixed value. Imagine 
Wordsworth, and Ruskin, and Shelley, and Burns the 
ploughman, and Lincoln, and Hans Christian Ander- 
sen, and Mrs. Wiggs of the Cabbage Patch, and Mr. 
Dooley, each in a Vanderbilt mansion of his own, all 
along in a line on Fifth Avenue. They would be 
ashamed to look out of the window. Every man wants 
his own proper setting. Who would destroy the log 
cabin where Lincoln lived when a boy to put a palace 
in its place? Will there ever be a Real Estate Com- 
pany formed that will let people be themselves in their 
own way? Or, if property must be restricted, why 
not have some other measure than money? Why 
not scholarship, or reason? Who would not rather 
live side by side with Socrates in a prison, or near 
a gentle patient servant in a lowly cottage than in the 
vicinity of Pluto with his billions? 

Truly, Mr. President, I see no glory in restrictions 
on the price of a house. 



Prose 2 1 5 



Self-Reliance. 

(Permission of Houghton, Mifflin & Company.) 
R. W. EMERSON, 1803-1882. 

My life is not an apology, but a life. It is for 
itself and not for a spectacle. I much prefer that it 
should be of a lower strain, so it be genuine and equal, 
than that it should be glittering and unsteady. I wish 
it to be sound and sweet, and not to need diet and 
bleeding. My life should be unique; it should be an 
alms, a battle, a conquest, a medicine. I ask primary 
evidence that you are a man, and refuse this appeal 
from the man to his actions. I know that for myself 
it makes no difference whether I do or forbear those 
actions which are reckoned excellent. I cannot con- 
sent to pay for a privilege where I have intrinsic right. 
Few and mean as my gifts may be, I actually am, and 
do not need for my own assurance or the assurance 
of my fellows any secondary testimony. 

What I must do is all that concerns me, not what 
the people think. This rule, equally arduous in actual 
and in intellectual life, may serve for the whole dis- 
tinction between greatness and meanness. It is the 
harder because you will always find those who think 
they know what is your duty better than you know it. 
It is easy in the world to live after the world's opinion; 
it is easy in solitude to live after our own; but the 
great man is he who in the midst of the crowd keeps 
with perfect sweetness the independence of solitude. 



2i6 Prose 



The Gift of Eloquence. 

From the introduction to "Passages from the Speeches and Letters 
of Abraham Lincoln," published (and copyrighted 1901) by The Century 
Company. 

RICHARD WATSON GILDER. FROM "LINCOLN AS A WRITER." 

Why is this selection here? Because it is the clearest call to be 
found, to the teacher to coax "immediate precision" and a literary result 
from the lips of a child. It should be the basis for a debate in every 
Normal School Debating Class. 

In the study required in editing this book it has been my surprise and 
pleasure to find it a growing opinion that The Development of Eloquence 
for all the ages has culminated in Abraham Lincoln. In Demosthenes, 
we find the influence of Socrates; in Cicero, the influence of Demos- 
thenes. But "Lincoln stood alone." There was no influence over his 
eloquence but the majestic facts which he had to face; the hand-to-hand 
encounter with the most gigantic conditions any human being ever had 
to control. 

By practice in extemporary speaking Lincoln learned 
to do a most difficult thing — namely, to produce litera- 
ture on his legs. It is difficult thus to produce litera- 
ture, because the words must flow with immediate 
precision. It is unusual for a politician to go through 
life always addressing audiences, and yet always avoid- 
ing the orator's temptation to please and captivate 
by extravagant and false sentiment and statement. 
The writer, and particularly the political writer, is 
tempted to this sort of immorality, but still more the 
speaker, for with the latter the reward of applause is 
prompt and seductive. It is amazing to look over 
Lincoln's record and find how seldom he went beyond 
bounds, how fair and just he was, how responsible 
and conscientious his utterances long before these ut- 
terances became of national importance. Yet it was 
largely because of this very quality that they assumed 
national importance. And then both his imagination 
and his sympathy helped him here, for while he saw 
and keenly felt his own side of the argument, he could 
see as clearly, and he could sympathetically under- 
stand, the side of his opponent. 



Prose 217 

Address at Gettysburg. 

Published by The Century Company, also by Francis D. Tandy. 
ABRAHAM LINCOLN. 

Fourscore and seven years ago, our fathers brought 
forth upon this continent a new nation, conceived in 
Hberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men 
are created equal. We are engaged in a great civil 
war, testing whether that nation — or any nation so 
conceived and so dedicated — can long endure. We 
are met on a great battle-field of that war. We have 
come to dedicate a portion of that field as the final 
resting place of those who here gave their lives that 
that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and 
proper that we should do this. But, in a larger sense, 
we cannot dedicate, we cannot consecrate, we cannot 
hallow this ground. The brave men, living and dead, 
who struggled here, have consecrated it far above our 
power to add or detract. The world will little note, 
nor long remember, what we say here ; but it can 
never forget what they did here. 

It is for us, the living, rather to be dedicated here 
to the unfinished work which they have thus far so 
nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedi- 
cated to the great task remaining before us ; that from 
these honoured dead we take increased devotion to 
that cause for which they here gave the last full 
measure of devotion ; that we here highly resolve that 
these dead shall not have died in vain ; that this nation 
shall, under God, have a new birth of freedom; and 
that government of the people, by the people, for the 
people, shall not perish from the earth. 



2i8 Prose 



On Abraham Lincoln. 

(Copyrighted by C. P. Farrell.) 
ROBERT G. INGERSOLL. 

Among the generous publishers who have helped me to collect Lincoln 
data for this volume are C. P. Farrell and Francis D. Tandy. The 
Ingersoll speech "On Abraham Lincoln" is doubtless the most famous 
ever published. And Francis D. Tandy as a collector and publisher of 
Lincoln statistics carries his message with the fervour of a missionary. 

Lincoln was not a type. He stands alone — no an- 
cestors, no fellows, and no successors. He had the 
advantage of living in a new country, of social 
equality, of personal freedom, of seeing in the horizon 
of his future the perpetual star of hope. In a new 
country, a man must possess at least three virtues—* 
honesty, courage and generosity. In a new country, 
character is essential ; in the old, reputation is suffi- 
cient. In the new, they find what a man really is ; 
in the old, he generally passes for what he resembles. 

Lincoln never finished his education. So to the 
night of his death he was a pupil, a learner, an in- 
quirer, a seeker after knowledge. Lincoln was a many- 
sided man, acquainted with smiles and tears, complex 
in brain, single in heart. He was never afraid to ask 
— never too dignified to admit that he did not know. 
No man had keener wit or kinder humour. He had 
intellect without arrogance, genius without pride, and 
religion without cant — that is to say, without bigotry 
and without deceit. 

He was an orator — clear, sincere, natural. If you 
wish to know the difference between an orator and 
an elocutionist — between what is felt and what is said 
— between what the heart and brain can do together 
and what the brain can do alone — read Lincoln's won- 
drous words at Gettysburg, and then the speech of 
Edward Everett. The oration of Lincoln will never 
be forgotten. It will live until languages are dead 
and lips are dust. 

Wealth could not purchase, power could not awe 



Prose 219 

this divine, this loving man. He knew no fear ex- 
cept the fear of doing wrong. Hating slavery, pitying 
the master — seeking to conquer, not persons, but 
prejudices — he was the embodiment of the self-denial, 
the courage, the hope, and the nobility of a nation. 
He spoke, not to inflame, not to upbraid, but to con- 
vince. He raised his hands, not to strike, but in bene- 
diction. He longed to pardon. He loved to see the 
pearls of joy on the cheeks of a wife whose husband 
he had rescued from death. Lincoln was the grandest 
figure of the fiercest civil war. He is the gentlest 
mernory of our world. 

Northern Laborers. 

HENRY WILSON. 

Sir: Should the Senator and his agitators and lec- 
turers come to Massachusetts, on a mission to teach 
our "hireling class of manual labourers," our "slaves," 
the "tremendous secret of the ballot-box," and to help 
"combine and lead them," these stigmatised "hire- 
lings" would reply to the Senator and his associates: 
"We are freemen; we are- the peers of the gifted and 
the wealthy; we know 'the tremendous secret of the 
ballot-box' ; and we mould and fashion these institu- 
tions that bless and adorn our free Commonwealth! 
These public schools are ours, for the education of 
our children ; these libraries, with their accumulated 
treasures, are ours ; these multitudinous and varied 
pursuits of life, where intelligence and skill find their 
reward, are ours. Labour is here honoured and re- 
spected, and great examples incite us to action. 

"Our eyes glisten and our hearts throb over the 
radiant pages of our history, that record the deeds of 
patriotism of the Sons of New England who sprang 
from the ranks and wore the badges of toil. 

"While the names of Benjamin Franklin, Roger 
Sherman, Nathanael Greene, and Paul Revere live on 



220 Prose 

the brightest pages of our history, the mechanics of 
Massachusetts and New England will never want illus- 
trious examples to incite us to noble aspirations and 
noble deeds." 

American Taxation. 

EDMUND BURKE, 1730-1797. 

Could anything be a subject of more just alarm 
to America, than to see you go out of the plain high- 
road of finance, and give up your most certain revenues 
and your clearest interests, merely for the sake of 
insulting your Colonies? No man ever doubted that 
the commodity of tea could bear an imposition of 
three-pence. But no commodity will bear three-pence, 
or will bear a penny, when the general feelings of 
men are irritated, and two millions of men are resolved 
not to pay. The feelings of the Colonies were for- 
merly the feelings of Great Britain. Theirs were 
formerly the feelings of Mr. Hampden, when called 
upon for the payment of twenty shillings. Would 
twenty shillings have ruined Mr. Hampden's fortune? 
No! but the payment of half twenty shillings, on the 
principle it was demanded, would have made him a 
slave! It is the weight of that preamble, of which 
you are so fond, and not the weight of the duty, that 
the Americans are unable and unwilling to bear. You 
are, therefore, at this moment, in the awkward situa- 
tion of fighting for a phantom; a thing that wants, 
not only a substance, but even a name; for a thing 
which is neither abstract right, nor profitable 
enjoyment. 

They tell you, Sir, that your dignity is tied to it. 
I know not how it happens, but this dignity of yours 
is a terrible incumbrance to you; for it has of late 
been ever at war with your interest, your equity, and 
every idea of your policy. Show the thing you con- 
tend for to be reason, show it to be common sense, 



Prose 221 

show it to-be the means of obtaining some useful 
end, and then I am content to allow it what dignity 
you please. But what dignity is derived from the 
perseverance in absurdity, is more than I ever could 
discern ! 

Let us. Sir, embrace some system or other before 
we end this session. Do you mean to tax America, 
and to draw a productive revenue from thence? If 
you do, speak out; name, fix, ascertain this revenue; 
settle its quantity; define its objects; provide for its 
collection; and then fight, when you have something 
to fight for. If you murder, rob; if you kill, take 
J)ossession : and do not appear in the -character of 
madmen, as well as assassins ; violent, vindictive, 
bloody, and tyrannical, without an object. 

But may better counsels guide you ! 

England's Right to Tax America. 

EDMUND BURKE, 1730-1797. 

Oh ! inestimable right ! Oh ! wonderful, tran- 
scendent right, the assertion of which has cost this 
country thirteen provinces, six islands, one hundred 
thousand lives, and seventy millions of money ! Oh ! 
invaluable right ! for the sake of which we have sacri- 
ficed our rank among nations, our importance abroad, 
and our happiness at home! Oh! right more dear 
to us than our existence, which has already cost us so 
much, and which seems likely to cost us our all. 

Infatuated man ! miserable and undone country ! not 
to know that the claim of right, without the power 
of enforcing it, is nugatory and idle. We have a 
right to tax America, the noble lord tells us ; there- 
fore we ought to tax America. This is the profound 
logic which comprises the whole chain of his rea- 
soning. Not inferior to this was the wisdom of him 
who resolved to shear the wolf ! What ! shear a wolf ! 
Have you considered the resistance, the difficulty, the 



222 Prose 

danger of the attempt? No, sa3^s the madman, I have 
considered nothing but the right. Man has a right 
of dominion over the beasts of the forest; and, there- 
fore, I will shear the Vv^olf! How wonderful that a 
nation could be thus deluded! 

But the noble lord deals in cheats and delusions. 
They are the daily traffic of his invention. He will 
continue to play off his cheats on this house so long 
as he thinks them necessary to his purpose, and so 
long as he has money enough at command to bribe 
gentlemen to pretend that they believe him. But a 
black and bitter day of reckoning will surely come. 
Whenever that day comes, I trust I shall be able, by 
a parliamentary impeachment, to bring upon the heads 
of the authors of our calamities the punishment they 
deserve. 

A Sufficient Naval Force. 

JOHN C. CALHOUN, 1782-1850. 

The late war has given us a tone of feeling and 
thinking which forbids the acknowledgment of na- 
tional inferiority, — that first of political evils. Had 
we not encountered Great Britain, we should not have 
had the brilliant points to rest on which we now have. 

We too have now our heroes and illustrious actions. 
If Great Britain has her Wellington, we have our 
Jackson and Scott. If she has her naval heroes, we also 
have them, not less renowned, — for they have plucked 
the laurel from her brows. It is impossible that we 
can now be degraded by comparisons. 

Let us now consider the measures of preparation 
which sound policy dictates. The navy, most cer- 
tainly, in any point of view, occupies the first place. 
It is the safest, most effectual, and cheapest mode 
of defence. If the force be the safest and most effi- 
cient which is at the same time the cheapest, on that 
should be our principal reliance. 



Prose 223 

We have heard much of the danger of standing 
armies to our Hberties. The objection cannot be made 
to the navy. Generals, it must be acknowledged, have 
often advanced at the head of armies to imperial rank ; 
but in what instance has an admiral usurped the liber- 
ties of his country? 

Put our strength in the navy for foreign defence, 
and we shall certainly escape the whole catalogue of 
possible ills painted by gentlemen on the other side. 
A naval force attacks that country from whose hostili- 
ties alone we have anything to dread, where she is 
most assailable, and defends our own country where 
she is weakest. 

Where is Great Britain most vulnerable? In what 
point is she most accessible to attack? In her com- 
merce, in her navigation. There she is not only ex- 
posed, but the blow is fatal. There is her strength, 
there the secret of her power. There, then, if it ever 
shall become necessary, we ought to strike. 

And where are we most exposed? On the Atlan- 
tic line, — a line so long and weak, that we are pe- 
culiarly liable to be assailed on it. How is it to be 
defended? By a navy, and by a navy only, can it 
be efficiently defended. 

Let us look back to the time when the enemy was 
in possession of the whole line of the sea-coast, 
moored in our rivers, and ready to assault us at 
every point. A recurrence of this state of things, 
so oppressive to the country in the event of another 
war, can be prevented only by the establishment and 
maintenance of a sufficient naval force. 

If anything can preserve the country in its most im- 
minent dangers from abroad, it is this species of ar- 
mament. If we desire to be free from future wars, 
(as I hope we may be,) this is the only way to effect 
it. We shall have peace then, and, what is of still 
higher moment, peace with perfect security. 



224 Prose 



The Noblest Public Virtue. 

HENRY CLAY, 1777-1852. 

To the memory of "The Watch-dog of the Lake Front." There was 
an old sailor who laid up his treasures in Heaven. 

There is a sort of courage, which, I frankly con- 
fess it, I do not possess, — a boldness to which I dare 
not aspire, a valour which I cannot covet. I cannot 
lay myself down in the way of the welfare and hap- 
piness of my country. That, I cannot — I have not 
the courage to do. I cannot interpose the power with 
which I may be invested — a power conferred, not for 
my personal benefit, nor for my aggrandisement, but 
for my country's good — to check her onward march 
to greatness and glory. I have not courage enough. 
I am too cowardly for that. I would not, I dare 
not, in the exercise of such a threat, lie down, and 
place my body across the path that leads my coun- 
try to prosperity and happiness. This is a sort of 
courage widely different from that which a man may 
display in his private conduct and personal relations. 
Personal or private courage is totally distinct from 
that higher and nobler courage which prompts the 
patriot to offer himself a voluntary sacrifice to his 
country's good. 

Apprehensions of the imputation of the want of 
firmness sometimes impel us to perform rash and in- 
considerate acts. It is the greatest courage to be able 
to bear the imputation of the want of courage. But 
pride, vanity, egotism, so unamiable and offensive in 
private life, are vices which partake of the character 
of crimes, in the conduct of public affairs. The un- 
fortunate victim of these passions cannot see beyond 
the little, petty, contemptible circle of his own per- 
sonal interests. All his thoughts are withdrawn from 
his country, and concentrated on his consistency, his 
firmness, himself! The high, the exalted, the sublime 



Prose 225 

emotions of a patriotism which, soaring towards 
Heaven, rises far above all mean, low, or selfish things, 
and is absorbed by one soul-transporting thought of 
the good and the glory of one's country, are never 
felt in his impenetrable bosom. That patriotism 
which, catching its inspiration from the immortal God, 
and, leaving at an immeasurable distance below all 
lesser, grovelling, personal interests and feelings, ani- 
mates and prompts to deeds of self-sacrifice, of valour, 
of devotion, and of death itself, — that is public vir- 
tue; that is the noblest, the sublimest of all public 
virtues ! 

Return of British Fugitives. 

PATRICK HENRY, 1736-1799. 

They ran away in time of war and came back in time of peace, and 
lived "to fight another day." 

I VENTURE to prophecy, there are those now living 
who will see this favoured land amongst the most 
powerful on earth, — able. Sir, to take care of her- 
self, without resorting to that policy, which is always 
so dangerous, though sometimes unavoidable, of call- 
ing in foreign aid. Yes, Sir, they will see her great 
in arts and in arms, — her golden harvest waving over 
fields of immeasurable extent, her commerce pene- 
trating the most distant seas, and her cannon silencing 
the vain boasts of those who now proudly affect to 
rule the waves. But, Sir, you must have men, — you 
cannot get along without them. Those heavy forests 
of valuable timber, under which your lands are groan- 
ing, must be cleared away. Those vast riches which 
cover the face of your soil, as well as those which 
lie hid in its bosom, are to be developed and gathered 
only by the skill and enterprise of men. Your tim- 
ber. Sir, must be worked up into ships, to transport 
the productions of the soil from which it has been 
cleared. Then, you must have commercial men and 
commercial capital, to take off your productions, and 



226 Prose 

find the best markets for them abroad. Your great 
want, Sir, is the want of men; and these you must 
have, and will have speedily, if you are wise. 

Do you ask how you are to get them? Open your 
doors. Sir, and they will come in ! The population of 
the Old World is full to overflowing. That popu- 
lation is ground, too, by the oppressions of the Govern- 
ments under which they live. Sir, they are already 
standing on tiptoe upon their native shores, and look- 
ing to your coasts with a wistful and longing eye. 
They see here a land blessed with natural and political 
advantages, which are not equalled by those of any 
other country upon earth ; — a land on which a gracious 
Providence hath emptied the horn of abundance, a 
land over which Peace hath now stretched forth her 
white wings, and where Content and Plenty lie down 
at every door! 

Sir, they see something still more attractive than 
all this. They see a land in which Liberty hath taken 
up her abode, — that Liberty whom they had consid- 
ered as a fabled goddess, existing only in the fan- 
cies of poets. They see her here a real divinity, — 
her altars rising on every hand throughout these happy 
States; her glories chanted by three millions of tongues, 
and the whole region smiling under her blessed 
influence. Sir, let but this, our celestial goddess, Lib- 
erty, stretch forth her fair hand toward the People of 
the Old World, — tell them to come, and bid them wel- 
come, — and you will see them pouring in from the 
North, from the South, from the East, and from the 
West. Your wildernesses will be cleared and settled, 
your deserts will smile, your ranks will be filled, and 
you will soon be in a condition to defy the powers of 
any adversary. 

But Gentlemen object to any accession from Great 
Britain, and particularly to the return of the British 
refugees. Sir, I feel no objection to the return of 
those deluded people. They have, to be sure, mistaken 



Prose 227 

their own interests most wofully; and most wofully 
have they suffered the punishment due to their of- 
fences. But the relations which we bear to them, and 
to their native country, are now changed. Their King 
hath acknowledged our independence; the quarrel is 
over, peace hath returned, and found us a free Peo- 
ple. Let us have the magnanimity, Sir, to lay aside 
our antipathies and prejudices, and consider the sub- 
ject in a political light. Those are an enterprising, 
moneyed people. They will be serviceable in taking 
off the surplus produce of our lands, and supplying us 
with necessaries, during the infant state of our manu- 
factures. Even if they be inimical to us in point of 
feeling and principle, I can see no objection, in a po- 
litical view, in making them tributary to our advan- 
tage. And, as I have no prejudices to prevent my 
making this use of them, so. Sir, I have no fear of 
any mischief that they can do us. Afraid of them! — 
What, Sir, shall we, who have laid the proud British 
lion at our feet, now be afraid of his zvhelpsf 

The First Step to Reconciliation vvith America. 

WILLIAM PITT (EARL OF CHATHAM), 1708-1778. 

In a government that is based upon equal rights, equal responsibili- 
ties, equal burdens, it is fundamental that you must have equal and 
just taxation. Take as your cardinal principle, take as the creed you 
will follow to the letter, equal and exact justice to all men and to 
all interests — special favours to none. — Robert M. La Follette. 

I. Removal of Troops from Boston. 

America, my Lords, cannot be reconciled to this 
country, — she ought not to be reconciled, — till the 
troops of Britain are withdrawn. How can America 
trust you, with the bayonet at her breast? How can 
she suppose that you mean less than bondage or death ? 
I therefore move that an address be presented to his 
Majesty, advising that imm.ediate orders be despatched 
to General Gage, for removing his Majesty's forces 
from the town of Boston. The way must be immedi- 



228 Prose 

ately opened for reconciliation. It will soon be too 
late. An hour, now lost in allaying ferments in 
America, may produce years of calamity. Never will 
I desert, for a moment, the conduct of this weighty 
business. Unless nailed to my bed by the extremity 
of sickness, I will pursue it to the end. I will knock 
at the door of this sleeping and confounded Ministry, 
and will, if it be possible, rouse them to a sense of 
their danger. 

I contend not for indulgence, but for justice, to 
America. What is our right to persist in such cruel 
and vindictive acts against a loyal, respectable people ! 
They say you have no right to tax them without their 
consent. They say truly. Representation and taxa- 
tion must go together. They are inseparable. I there- 
fore urge and conjure your Lordships immediately to 
adopt this conciliating measure. If illegal violences 
have been, as is said, committed in America, prepare 
the way, — open the door of possibility, — for acknowl- 
edgment and satisfaction. But proceed not to such co- 
ercion — such proscription. Cease your indiscriminate 
inflictions. Amerce not thirty thousand. Oppress not 
three millions; irritate them not to unappeasable ran- 
cour, for the fault of forty or fifty. Such severity of 
injustice must forever render incurable the wounds 
you have inflicted. What though you march from 
town to town, from province to province? What 
though you enforce a temporary and local submission ? 
How shall you secure the obedience of the country 
you leave behind you in your progress? How grasp 
the dominion of eighteen hundred miles of continent, 
populous in numbers, strong in valour, liberty, and 
the means of resistance? 

The spirit which now resists your taxation, in 
America, is the same which formerly opposed loans, 
benevolences, and ship-money, in England; the same 
spirit which called all England on its legs, and, by the 
Bill of Rights, vindicated the English Constitution;-^ 



Prose 229 

the same spirit which established the great fundamental 
essential maxim of your liberties, that no subject of 

ENGLAND SHALL BE TAXED BUT BY HIS OWN CONSENT. 

This glorious Whig spirit animates three millions in 
America, who prefer poverty with liberty, to gilded 
chains and sordid affluence; and who will die in de- 
fence of their rights as men, as free men. What shall 
oppose this spirit, aided by the congenial flame glow- 
ing in the breast of every Whig in England? '' 'Tis 
liberty to liberty engaged," that they will defend them- 
selves, their families, and their country. In this great 
cause they are immovably allied; it is the alliance of 
God and nature, — immutable, eternal, — fixed as the 
firmament of Heaven. 

II. The Repeal Claimed by Americans as a Right. 

It is not repealing this or that act of Parliament, — 
it is not repealing a piece of parchment, — that can 
restore America to our bosom. You must repeal her 
fears and her resentments ; and you may then hope for 
her love and her gratitude. But, now, insulted with 
an armed force posted at Boston, irritated with a hos- 
tile array before her eyes, her concessions, if you 
could force them, would be suspicious and insecure, 
— the dictates of fear, and the extortions of force! 
But it is more than evident that you cannot force 
them, principled and united as they are, to your un- 
worthy terms of submission. Repeal, therefore, my 
Lords, I say! But bare repeal will not satisfy this 
enlightened and spirited People. You must go through 
the work. You must declare you have no right to 
tax. Then they may trust you. There is no time 
to be lost. Every moment is big with dangers. While 
I am speaking, the decisive blow may be struck, and 
millions involved in the consequence. The very first 
drop of blood shed in civil and unnatural war will 
make a wound which years, perhaps ages, may not 
heal. • 



230 yrose 

When your Lordships look at the papers transmitted 
to us from America — when you consider their decency, 
firmness and wisdom, — you cannot but respect their 
cause, and wish to make it your own. I must de- 
clare and avow. that, in the master States of the world, 
I know not the People nor the Senate, who, under 
such a complication of dit^cult circumstances, can 
stand in preference to the delegates of America as- 
sembled in General Congress at Philadelphia. For 
genuine sagacity, for singular moderation, for solid 
wisdom, manly spirit, sublime sentiment, and simplic- 
ity of language, — for everything respectable. — and 
honourable — they stand unrivalled. I trust it is ob- 
vious to your Lordships that all attempts to impose 
servitude upon such men. to establish despotism over 
such a miglity Continental Nation, must be vain, must 
be fatal. This wise People speak out. They do not 
hold the language of slaves. They tell you what they 
mean. They do not ask you to repeal your laws as 
a favour. They claim it as a right — they demand it. 
They tell you they will not submit to them. And I 
tell you the acts must be repealed. We shall be forced 
ultimately to retract. Let us retract while we can. not 
when we must. I say we must necessarily undo these 
violent, oppressive, acts. They must be repealed. 
You WILL repeal them. I stake my reputation on it. 
I will consent to be taken for an idiot, if they are not 
finally repealed. Avoid, then, this humiliating, this 
disgraceful necessity. Every motive of justice and 
of policy, of dignity and of prudence, urges you to 
allay the ferment in America, by a removal of your 
troops from Boston, by a repeal of your acts of Par- 
liament. On the other hand, every danger and every 
hazard impend, to deter you from perseverance in your 
present ruinous measures : — foreign war hanging over 
your heads by a slight and brittle thread, — France and 
Spain watching your conduct, and waiting the maturity 
of 3'our errors ! 



Prose 231 

To conclude, my Lords : if the Ministers thus per- 
severe in misadvising and misleading the King, I will 
not say that they can alienate the affections of his 
subjects from the Crown, but I will affirm that they 
will make his Crown not worth his wearing; I will 
not say that the King is betrayed, but I will pronounce 
that the kingdom is undone! 

Against the Embargo. 

JOSIAH QUINCY, 1772-1864. 

I ASK, in what page of the Constitution you find the 
power of laying an embargo. Directly given, it is 
nowhere. Never before did society witness a total 
prohibition of all intercourse like this, in a commer- 
cial Nation. But it has been asked in debate, "Will 
not Massachusetts, the cradle of liberty, submit to such 
privations?" An embargo-liberty was never cradled 
in Massachusetts. Our liberty was not so much a 
mountain nymph as a sea nymph. She was free as air. 
She could swim, or she could run. The ocean was her 
cradle. Our fathers met her as she came, like the 
goddess of beauty, from the waves. They caught her 
as she was sporting on the beach. They courted her 
while she was spreading her nets upon the rocks. But 
an embargo-liberty, a hand-cuffed liberty, liberty in 
fetters, a liberty traversing between the four sides of 
a prison and beating her head against the walls, is 
none of our offspring. We abjure the monster! Its 
parentage is all inland. 

Is embargo independence ? Deceive not yourselves ! 
It is palpable submission! Gentlemen exclaim, "Great 
Britain smites us on one cheek!" And what does Ad- 
ministration? 'Tt turns the other, also." Gentlemen 
say, "Great Britain is a robber; she takes our cloak." 
And what says Administration? "Let her take our 
coat, also." France and Great Britain require you to 
relinquish a part of your commerce, and you yield it 



232 Prose 

entirely! At every corner of this great city we meet 
some gentlemen of the majority wringing their hands, 
and exclaiming, "What shall we do? Nothing but an 
embargo will save us. Remove it and what shall we 
do?" Sir, it is not for me, an humble and uninfluen- 
tial individual, at an awful distance from the pre- 
dominant influences, to suggest plans of Government. 
But, to my eye, the path of our duty is as distinct as 
the Milky Way, — all studded with living sapphires, 
glowing with cumulating light. It is the path of ac- 
tive preparation; of dignified energy. It is the path 
of 1776! It consists not in abandoning our rights, but 
in supporting them, as they exist, and where they exist, 
— on the ocean as well as on the land. But I shall 
be told, "This may lead to war." I ask, "Are we now 
at peace?" Certainly not, unless retiring from insult 
be peace ; unless shrinking under the lash be peace ! 
The surest way to prevent war is not to fear it. The 
idea that nothing on earth is so dreadful as war is 
inculcated too studiously among us. Disgrace is 
worse! Abandonment of essential rights is worse! 

On Sudden Political Conversions. 

DANIEL WEBSTER, 1782-1852. 

Mr. President, public men must certainly be al- 
lowed to change their opinions, and their associations, 
whenever they see fit. No one doubts this. Men may 
have grown wiser, — they may have attained to better 
and more correct views of great public subjects. 
Nevertheless, Sir, it must be acknowledged, that what 
appears to be a sudden, as well as a great change, 
naturally produces a shock. I confess, for one, I was 
shocked, when the honourable gentleman, at the last 
session, espoused this bill of the Administration. Sud- 
den movements of the affections, whether personal or 
political, are a little out of nature. 

Several years ago, Sir, some of the wits of England 



Prose 233 

wrote a mock play, intended to ridicule the unnatural 
and false feeling — the sentimentality — of a certain 
German school of literature. In this play, two 
strangers are brought together at an inn. While they 
are warming themselves at the fire, and before their 
acquaintance is yet five minutes old, one springs up, 
and exclaims to the other, ''A sudden thought strikes 
me ! — Let us swear an eternal friendship !" 

This affectionate offer was instantly accepted, and 
the friendship duly sworn, unchangeable and eternal ! 
Now, Sir, how long this eternal friendship lasted, 
or in what manner it ended, those who wish to know 
may learn by referring to the play. But it seems to 
me, Sir, that the honourable member has carried his 
political sentimentality a good deal higher than the 
flight of the German school; for he appears to have 
fallen suddenly in love, not with strangers, but with 
opponents. Here we all had been, Sir, contending 
against the progress of Executive power, and more 
particularly and most strenuously, against the projects 
and experiments of the Administration upon the cur- 
rency. The honourable member stood among us, not 
only as an associate, but as a leader. We thought we 
were making some headway. The People appeared to 
be coming to our support and our assistance. The 
country had been roused ; every successive election 
weakening the strength of the adversary, and increas- 
ing our own. We were in this career of success, car- 
ried strongly forward by the current of public opinion,, 
and only needed to hear the cheering voice of the 
honourable member, 

"Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more ! " 

and we should have prostrated, forever, this anti- 
constitutional, anti-commercial, anti-republican, and 
anti-American policy of the Administration. But, in- 
stead of these encouraging and animating accents, be- 
hold! in the very crisis of our affairs, on the very eve 



234 Prose 

of victory, the honourable member cries out to the 
enemy, — not to us, his alHes, but to the enemy, — 
"Holloa ! a sudden thought strikes me ! — I abandon my 
allies ! Now I think of it, they have always been my 
oppressors ! I abandon them ; and now let you and me 
swear an eternal friendship !" 

Such a proposition, from such a quarter. Sir, was 
not likely to be long withstood. The other party was 
a little coy, but, upon the whole nothing loath. After 
proper hesitation, and a little decorous blushing, it 
owned the soft impeachment, admitted an equally sud- 
den sympathetic impulse on its own side; and, since 
few words are wanted where hearts are already known, 
the honourable gentleman takes his place among his 
new friends, amidst greetings and caresses, and is al- 
ready enjoying the sweets of an eternal friendship. 

The North American Indians. 

TIMOTHY FLINT, 1780-1840. 

An Indian seldom jests. He usually speaks low, 
and under his breath. Loquacity is with him an indi- 
cation of being a trifling character, and of deeds in- 
versely less as his words are more. The young men, 
and even the boys, have a sullen, moody, and un joyous 
countenance ; and seem to have little of that elastic 
gaiety with which the benevolence of Providence has 
endowed the first days of the existence of most other 
beings. In this general remark, we ought not, perhaps, 
to include the squaw, who shows some analogy of feel- 
ing to the white woman. 

The men evidently have not the quick sensibilities, 
the acute perceptions, of most other races. They do 
not easily sympathise with what is enjoyment or suf- 
fering about them. Nothing but an overwhelming ex- 
citement can arouse them. They seem callous to all the 
passions, but rage. Every one has remarked how little 
surprise they express for whatever is new, strange, or 



Prose 235 

striking. True, it is partially their pride that induces 
them to affect this indifference, — for, that it is af- 
fected, we have had numberless opportunities to dis- 
cover. It is, with them, not only pride, but calcu- 
lation, to hold in seeming contempt things which they 
are aware they cannot obtain and possess. But they 
seem to be born with an instinctive determination to 
be independent, if possible, of nature and society, and 
to concentrate within themselves an existence, which, 
at any moment, they seem willing to lay down. 

Their impassible fortitude and endurance of suffer- 
ing, their contempt of pain and death, invest their 
character with a kind of moral grandeur. Some part 
of this may be the result of their training, discipline, 
and exercise of self-control ; but it is to be doubted 
whether some part be not the result of a more than 
ordinary degree of physical insensibility. It has been 
said, but with how much truth we do not pretend to 
say, that, in undergoing amputation, and other surgi- 
cal operations, their nerves do not shrink, or show the 
same tendency to spasms, with those of the whites. 
When the savage — to explain his insensibility to cold 
— called upon the white man to recollect how little his 
own face was affected by it, in consequence of its con- 
stant exposure, the savage added, "My body is all 
facer 

Surely it is preposterous to admire, as some pretend 
to do, the savage character in the abstract. Let us 
make every effort to convey pity, mercy, and immor- 
tal hopes, to their rugged bosoms. Pastorals that sing 
savage independence and generosity, and gratitude and 
happiness in the green woods, may be Arcadian enough 
to those who never saw savages in their wigwams, 
or never felt the apprehension of their nocturnal and 
hostile yell, from the depth of the forest around their 
dwelling. But let us not undervalue the comfort and 
security of municipal and social life; nor the sensi- 
bilities, charities, and endearments, of a civilised home. 



236 Prose 

Let our great effort be to tame and domesticate the 
Indians. Their happiness, steeled against feeHng, at 
war with nature, the elements, and one another, can 
have no existence, except in the visionary dreamings 
of those who have never contemplated their actual 
condition. 

It is curious to remark, however, that, different as 
are their religions, their discipline, and their standards 
of opinion, in most respects, from ours, in the main 
they have much the same notion of a great, respect- 
able, and good man, that we have. If we mark the 
universal passion for military display among our own 
race, and observe what place is assigned by common 
feeling, as well as history, to military prowess, we 
shall hardly consider it a striking difference from our 
nature, that bravery, and contempt of death, and reck- 
less daring, command the first place in their homage. 
But, apart from these views, the same traits of char- 
acter that entitle a man to the appellation of virtuous 
and good, and that insure respect among us, have much 
the same bearing upon the estimation of the Indians. 
In conversing with them, we are struck with surprise, 
to observe how widely and deeply the obligations of 
truth, constancy, honour, generosity, and forbearance, 
are felt and understood among them. 

As regards their vanity, we have not often had the 
fortune to contemplate a young squaw at her toilet; 
but, from the studied arrangement of her calico jacket, 
from the glaring circles of vermilion on her plump and 
circular face, from the artificial manner in which her 
hair, of intense black, is clubbed in a coil of the thick- 
ness of a man's wrist, from the long time it takes her 
to complete these arrangements, from the manner in 
which she minces and ambles, and plays off her pretti- 
est airs, after she has put on all her charms, we should 
clearly infer, that dress and personal ornament occupy 
the same portion of her thoughts that they do of the 
fashionable woman of civilised society. In regions 



Prose 237 

contiguous to the whites, the squaws have generally a 
calico frock of the finest colours. 

A young Indian warrior is notoriously the most 
thorough-going beau in the world. Bond-street and 
Broadway furnish no subjects that will undergo as 
much crimping and confinement, to appear in full 
dress. We are confident that we have observed such 
a character, constantly occupied with his paints and 
his pocket-glass, three full hours, laying on his colours, 
and arranging his tresses, and contemplating, from 
time to time, with visible satisfaction, the progress of 
his growing attractions. When he has finished, the 
I^roud triumph of irresistible charm.s is in his eye. The 
chiefs and warriors, in full dress, have one, two, or 
three broad clasps of silver about their arms; gen- 
erally jewels in their ears, and often in their noses; 
and nothing is more common than to see a thin, cir- 
cular piece of silver, of the size of a dollar, depend- 
ing from the nose, a little below the upper lip. 

Nothing shows more clearly the influence of fash- 
ion: this ornament, so painfully inconvenient, as it 
evidently is to them, and so horridly ugly and dis- 
figuring, seems to be the utmost finish of Indian taste. 
Painted porcupine-quills are twisted in their hair. 
Tails of animals hang from their hair behind. A neck- 
lace of bear's or alligator's teeth, or of claws^ of the 
bald eagle, hangs loosely down, with an interior and 
smaller circle of large red beads; or, in default of 
them, a rosary of red hawthorns surrounds the neck. 
From the knees to the feet, the legs are ornamented 
with great numbers of little, perforated, cylindrical 
pieces of silver or brass, that emit a simultaneous 
tinkle as the person walks. If to all this he add an 
American hat, and a soldier's coat of blue, faced with 
red, over the customary calico shirt of the gaudiest 
colours that can be found, he lifts his feet high, and 
steps firmly on the ground, to give his tinklers an 
uniform and full sound, and apparently considers his 



238 Prose 

appearance with as much complacency as the human 
bosom can be supposed to feel. This is a very cur- 
tailed view of an Indian beau, but every reader com- 
petent to judge will admit its fidelity, as far as it goes, 
to the description of a young Indian warrior, when 
prepared to take part in a public dance. 

Rejection of the Reform Bill. 

REV. SYDNEY SMITH, 1768-1845. 

I have tried to reject this ''Reform Bill" many times but Mrs. Parting- 
ton has swept me out. 

Mr. Chairman, I feel most deeply the rejection of 
the Reform Bill by the Lords, because, by putting the 
two Houses of Parliament in collision with each other, 
it will impede the public business, and diminish the 
public prosperity. I feel it as a churchman, because 
I cannot but blush to see so many dignitaries of the 
Church arrayed against the wishes and happiness of 
the People. I feel it, more than all, because I believe 
it will sow the seeds of deadly hatred between the 
aristocracy and the great mass of the People. The 
loss of the Bill I do not feel, and for the best of all 
possible reasons — because I have not the slightest idea 
that it is lost. I have no more doubt, before the ex- 
piration of the winter, that this Bill will pass, than I 
have that the annual tax bills will pass; and greater 
certainty than this no man can have, for Franklin tells 
us there are but two things certain in this world, — 
death and taxes. As for the possibility of the House, 
of Lords preventing, ere long, a reform of Parliament, 
I hold it to be the most absurd notion that ever en- 
tered into human imagination. I do not mean to be 
disrespectful ; but the attempt of the Lords to stop the 
progress of reform reminds me very forcibly of the 
great storm of Sidmouth, and of the conduct of 
the excellent Mrs. Partington on that occasion. In the 
winter of 1824, there set in a great flood upon that 



Prose 239 

town ; the tide rose to an incredible height ; the waves 
rushed in upon the houses, and everything was threat- 
ened with destruction. In the midst of this sublime 
and terrible storm, Dame Partington, who lived upon 
the beach, was seen at the door of her house, with 
mop and pattens, trundling her mop, squeezing out 
the sea-water, and vigorously pushing away the At- 
lantic Ocean! The Atlantic was roused; Mrs. Part- 
ington's spirit was up ; but I need not tell you that the 
contest was unequal. The Atlantic Ocean beat Mrs. 
Partington. She was excellent at a slop, or a puddle, 
but she should not have meddled with a tempest. 

Gentlemen, be at your ease, — be quiet and steady. 
You will beat Mrs. Partington. 

To the Army before Quebec. 

GENERAL WOLFE, 1726- 1759. 

"Gen. Wolfe" is often nothing but a name. I once asked a roomful 
of boys and girls of eleven or twelve years, "Who was General Wolfe?" 
"He ate up his grandmother!" said one of the boys. Only one of the 
fifty could tell. And a monument to Wolfe was within a few rods of 
the school-house. 

I congratulate you, my brave countrymen and 
fellow-soldiers, on the spirit and success with which 
you have executed this important part of our enter- 
prise. The formidable Heights of Abraham are now 
surmounted; and the city of Quebec, the object of all 
our toils, now stands in full view before us. A per- 
fidious enemy, who have dared to exasperate you by 
their cruelties, but not to oppose you on equal ground, 
are now constrained to face you on the open plain, 
without ramparts or intrenchments to shelter them. 

You know too well the forces which compose their 
army to dread their superior numbers. A few reg- 
ular troops from old France, weakened by hunger 
and sickness, who, when fresh, were unable to with- 
stand the British soldiers, are their General's chief de- 
pendence. Those numerous companies of Canadians, 
insolent, mutinous, unsteady, and ill-disciplined, have 



240 Prose 

exercised his utmost skill to keep them together to this 
time; and, as soon as their irregular ardour is damped 
by one firm fire, they will instantly turn their backs, 
and give you no further trouble but in the pursuit. 
As for those savage tribes of Indians, whose horrid 
yells in the forest have struck many a bold heart with 
affright, terrible as they are with a tomahawk and 
scalping-knife to a flying and prostrate foe, you have 
experienced how little their ferocity is to be dreaded 
by resolute men upon fair and open ground : you can 
now only consider them as the just objects of a severe 
revenge for the unhappy fate of many slaughtered 
countrymen. 

This day puts it into your power to terminate the 
fatigues of a siege which has so long employed your 
courage and patience. Possessed with a full confi- 
dence of the certain success which British valour must 
gain over such enem.ies, I have led you up these steep 
and dangerous rocks, only solicitous to show you the 
foe within your reach. The impossibility of a retreat 
makes no difference in the situation of men resolved 
to conquer or die ; and, believe me, my friends, if your 
conquest could be bought with the blood of your Gen- 
eral, he would most cheerfully resign a life which he 
has long devoted to his country. 



PART V. 

Eloquence shapes events. 

Burroughs 



PART V 



The First Home. 

(Copyrighted by Charles Scribner's Sons.) 
SIDNEY LANIER, 1842-1881. FROM "THE LANIER BOOK." 

At first glance this selection seems to be "a take off" on housekeeping 
but it means more than that. The home is the unit of the social 
organisation. The pleasure of a man in the home — is the explanation 
of the man's wish to extend his happiness to all mankind; to enjoy 
"the length and the breadth and the sweep" of hospitality. Burroughs 
says of "The Roof Tree" — "No man really loves his home who does 
not wish to see every one as well housed." 

This selection finds a home here in affectionate remembrance of the 
boys who participated in the literary contests on our Lanier-days, — and 
the mothers whose sympathetic presence cheered us on. 

The painters, the whitewashers, the phmibers, the 
locksmiths, the carpenters, the gas-fitters, the stove- 
put-up-ers, the carmen, the piano-movers, the carpet- 
layers — all these have I seen, bargained with, re- 
proached for bad jobs, and finally paid off. I have 
coaxed my landlord into all manner of outlays for 
damp walls, cold bathrooms, and other like matters. 
I have bought at least three hundred and twenty-seven 
household utensils which suddenly came to be abso- 
lutely necessary to our existence. I have moreover 
hired a coloured gentlewoman who is willing to wear 
out my carpets, burn out my range, freeze out my 
waterpipes, and be generally useful. I have moved 
my family into our new home, have had a Xmas tree 
for the youngsters. We are in a state of supreme con- 
tent with our new home; it really seems to me as 
incredible that myriads of people have been living in 
their own homes heretofore; as to the young couple 
with a first baby it seems impossible that a great many 

243 



244 Prose 

other couples have had similar prodigies. It is simply 
too delightful. Good heavens, how I wish that the 
whole world had a Home! I confess I am a little 
nervous about the gas-bills, which must come in, in the 
course of time ; and there are the water-rates, and sev- 
eral sorts of imposts and taxes; but then, the dignity 
of being liable for such things is a very support- 
ing consideration ! No man is a Bohemian who has 
to pay water-rates and a street-tax. Every day when I 
sit down in my dining-room — my dining-room ! — I 
find the wish growing stronger that each poor soul in 
the city, whether saint or sinner, could come and dine 
with me. How I would carve out the merry thoughts. 
How I would stuff the big wall-eyed rascals. There 
was a knight of old times who built the dining-hall 
of his castle across the highway, so that every way- 
farer must perforce pass through: there the traveller, 
rich or poor, found always a trencher and where- 
withal to fill it. Three times a day, in my own chair 
at my own table, do I envy that knight and wish that 
I might do as he did. 

Clap a Bridle on thy Tongue. 

THOMAS CARLYLE, 179S-1881. ABRIDGED FROM "SPEECH 
AND SILENCE." 

How delightful is the thought of those children who keep their lips 
closed, their tongues well bridled. Irene the silent, the lovable Tanta, 
Charles the quiet, Doris the gentle, Jack and Billy who knew how to 
listen, these are the treasures of a teacher. 

He who speaks honestly cares not, needs not care, 
though his words be preserved to remotest time. The 
dishonest speaker, not he only who purposely utters 
falsehoods, but he who does not purposely, and with 
sincere heart, utter Truth, and Truth alone ; who bab- 
bles he knows not what, and has clapped no bridle 
on his tongue, but lets it run racket, ejecting chatter 
and futility — is among the most indisputable malefac- 
tors omitted, or inserted, in the Criminal Calendar. 



Prose 



245 



To him that will well consider it, idle speaking is 
precisely the beginning of all Hollowness, Halfness, 
Infidelity (want of Faithfulness). 

Wise, of a wisdom far beyond our shallow depth, 
was that old precept, "Watch thy tongue; out of it 
are the issues of Life!" Man is properly an incarnated 
word: the word that he speaks is the man himself. 
Were eyes put into our head, that we might see, or 
that we might fancy, and plausibly pretend, we had 
seen? Was the tongue suspended there, that it might 
tell truly what we had seen, and make man the soul's 
brother of man; or only that it might utter vain 
sounds, jargon, soul-confusing^ and so divide man, as 
by enchanting walls of Darkness, from union with 
man ? 

Thou who wearest that cunning, heaven-made or- 
gan, a Tongue, think well of this. Speak not, I 
passionately entreat thee, till thy thought have silently 
matured itself, till thou have other than mad and mad- 
making noises to emit : hold thy tongue till some mean- 
ing lie behind, to set it wagging. 



A Man Passes for That He is Worth. 

(Permission of Houghton, Miiiflin & Company.) 

R. W. EMERSON, 1803-1882. 

A man is worth just so much as that is worth about which ha 
busies himself. — Marcus Aurelius. 

A MAN passes for that he is worth. Very idle is all 
curiosity concerning other people's estimate of us, and 
idle is all fear of remaining unknown. If a man know 
that he can do anything — that he can do it better 
than any one else, — he has a pledge of the acknowledg- 
ment of that fact by all persons. The world is full 
of judgment-days, and into every assembly that a 
man enters, in every action he attempts, he is gauged 
and stamped. In every troop of boys that whoop and 



246 Prose 

run in each yard and square, a newcomer is as well 
and accurately weighed in the balance in the course 
of a few days and stamped with his right number, as 
if he had undergone a formal trial of his strength, 
speed and temper. A stranger comes from a distant 
school, with better dress, with trinkets in his pockets, 
with airs and pretensions; an old boy sniffs thereat 
and says to himself, "It's of no use; we shall find him 
out to-morrow\" "What hath he done?" is the di- 
vine question which searches men and transpierces 
every false reputation. A fop may sit in any chair of 
the world nor be distinguished for his hour from 
Homer and Washington; but there can never be any 
doubt concerning the respective ability of human beings 
when we seek the truth. Pretension may sit still, but 
cannot act. Pretension never feigned an act of real 
greatness. Pretension never wrote an Illiad, nor drove 
back Xerxes, nor christianised the world, nor abolished 
slavery. 

Always as much virtue as there is, so much ap- 
pears ; as much goodness as there is, so much reverence 
it commands. All the devils respect virtue. The 
high, the generous, the self-devoted sect will always 
instruct and command mankind. Never a sincere word 
was utterly lost. Never a magnanimity fell to the 
ground. Always the heart of man greets and accepts 
it unexpectedly. A man passes for that he is worth. 



Sincerity. 

JOHN TILLOTSON, 1630-1694. 

Truth and sincerity have all the advantages of ap- 
pearance and many more. If the show of anything 
be good, the reality is better. The best way for a 
man to seem to be anything, is really to be what he 
would seem. It is as troublesome to support the pre- 
tence of a good quality, as to have it; and if a man 



Prose 247 

have it not, it is most likely he will be discovered to 
want it, and then all his labour to seem to have it is 
lost. 

It is hard to personate and act a part long; for 
where truth is at the bottom, nature will always be 
endeavouring to return, and will betray herself at ona 
time or another. Therefore, if any man think it con- 
venient to seem good, let him be so indeed, and then 
his goodness will appear to every one's satisfaction; 
for truth is convincing, and carries its own light and 
evidence with it. Sincerity is true wisdom. It is the 
shortest way to our end, carrying us thither in a 
straight line, and will hold out and last longest. 

The arts of deceit and cunning continually grow 
weaker and less effectual and serviceable to those that 
practise them ; whereas integrity gains strength by use, 
and the more and longer any man practises it, the 
greater service it does him, by confirming his repu- 
tation, and encouraging those with whom he has to do. 
A dissembler must always be upon his guard and 
watch himself carefully, that he does not contradict 
his own pretensions; for he acts an unnatural part, 
and therefore must put a continual force and restraint 
upon himself. Whereas he that acts sincerely has the 
easiest task in the world, because he follows nature, 
and so is put to no trouble and care about his words 
and actions ; he needs not invent any pretences before- 
hand, nor make any excuses, for anything he has said 
or done. 

Insincerity is very troublesome to manage ; a hypo- 
crite has so many things to attend to, as to make his 
life a very perplexed and intricate thing. A liar hath 
NEED OF A GOOD MEMORY lest lie contradict at one time 
what he said at another ; but truth is always consistent 
with itself, and needs nothing to help it out; it is al- 
ways near at hand, and sits upon our lips; whereas a 
lie is troublesome, and needs a great many more to 
make it good. 



248 Prose 

Sincerity is an excellent instrument for the speedy 
despatch of business. It creates confidence in those 
we have to deal with, saves the labour of many in- 
quiries, and brings to an issue in a few words. It is 
like travelling in a plain beaten road, which contin- 
ually brings a man sooner to his journey's end, than 
by-ways in which men often lose themselves. 

Whatever convenience there may be in falsehood 
and dissimulation, it is soon over; but the incon- 
venience of it is perpetual, because it brings a man 
under everlasting suspicion, so that he is not believed 
when he speaks the truth, nor trusted when perhaps 
he means honestly. When a man has once forfeited 
the reputation of his integrity, nothing will then serve 
his turn, neither truth nor falsehood. Indeed if a man 
were to deal in the world for a day, and should never 
have occasion to converse more with mankind, never 
more need their good opinion or good word, it were 
then no great matter (as far as respects the affairs of 
this world) if he spent his reputation all at once, and 
ventured it all at one throw. 

But if he continue in the world, and would have the 
advantage of reputation whilst he is in it, let him 
make use of truth and sincerity in all his words and 
actions, for nothing but this will hold out to the end. 



Humility versus Vain Glory. 

JOHN RUSKIN, 1819-1900. 

"I pray the Lord my soul to keep: — Mamma, tell me all about my 
soul," says Jeanne, aged two and a half years. We are all searching 
for the same knowledge, Jeanne. 

Be quite sure of one thing, that, however much 
you may know, and whatever advantages you may pos- 
sess, and however good you may be, you have not 
been singled out, by the God who made you, from all 
the other girls in the world, to be especially informed 
respecting His own nature and character. 



Prose 249 

Of all the insolent, all the foolish persuasions that 
by any chance could enter and hold your empty little 
heart, this is the proudest and foolishest, — that you 
have been so much the darling of the Heavens, and 
favourite of the Fates, as to be born in the very nick 
of time, and in the punctual place, when and where 
pure Divine truth had been sifted from the errors of 
the Nations; and that your papa had been provi- 
dentially disposed to buy a house in the convenient 
neighbourhood of the steeple under which that Im- 
maculate and final verity would be beautifully pro- 
' claimed. Do not think it, child; it is not so. This, on 
the contrary, is the fact, — unpleasant you may think 
it; pleasant, it seems to me, — that you, with all your 
pretty dresses, and dainty looks, and kindly thoughts, 
and saintly aspirations, are not one whit more thought 
of or loved by the great Maker and Master than any 
poor little red, black, or blue savage, running wild in 
the pestilent woods, or naked on the hot sands of the 
earth: and that, of the two, you probably know less 
about God than she does ; the only difference being 
that she thinks little of Him that is right, and you, 
much that is wrong. 

The second thing which you may make sure of is, 
that however good you may be, you have faults ; that 
however dull you may be, you can find out what some 
of them are ; and that however slight they may be, you 
had better make some effort to get quit of them. Trust 
me for this, that how many soever you may find or 
fancy your faults to be, there are only two that are 
of real consequence, — Idleness and Cruelty. Perhaps 
you may be proud. Well, we can get much good out 
of pride, if only it be not religious. Perhaps you may 
be vain: it is highly probable; and very pleasant for 
the people who like to praise you. Perhaps you are a 
little envious : that is really very shocking ; but then 
— so is everybody else. Perhaps also, you are a lit- 
tle malicious, which I am truly concerned to hear, but 



250 Prose 

should probably only the more, if I knew you, enjoy 
your conversation. But whatever else you may be, 
you must not be useless, and you must not be cruel. 

The Life of a Father Bee. 

Maeterlinck — (Copyright Dodd, Mead & Company.) 
Burroughs — (Copyright Houghton, Mifflin & Company.) 

MAURICE MAETERLINCK (FIRST PARAGRAPH). FROM 
"THE SWARM." 

JOHN BURROUGHS (SECOND PARAGRAPH). FROM "BIRDS 
AND BEES." 

"The Life of a Father Bee" is dedicated to any little girl who does 
not want her daddy round when she has company. How soulless is 
"Peggy Mel," the working bee! She is not unlike the thrifty housewife 
whose husband and the hired man stay in the barn when the sewing 
society meets at her house. The king bee is not to be envied. He has 
"a loud threatening hum but no sting to back it up." He is the father 
of the hive, but his eighty-thousand daughters sting him to death when 
there is a dearth of sweets on the table. Who does not know of at least 
one good old papa who wears poor clothes and works late at night that 
his little girl may have more fashionable dresses than the mamma? 

During the summer days when flowers are more 
abundant, there is in the hive the embarrassing pres- 
ence of three or four hundred drones from whose 
ranks the queen must select her consort ; three or four 
hundred foolish, clumsy, noisy creatures, who are pre- 
tentious, gluttonous, dirty, coarse, totally and scandal- 
ously idle, insatiable and enormous. 

Toward the close of the season, the fiat goes forth 
that the drones must die; there is no further use for 
them. Then the poor creatures how they are huddled 
and hustled about, trying to hide in corners and by- 
ways. There is no loud, defiant humming now, but 
abject fear seizes them. They cower like hunted 
criminals. I have seen a dozen or more of them wedge 
themselves into a small space between the glass and 
the comb, where the bees could not get hold of them, 
or where they seemed to be overlooked in the general 
slaughter. They will also crawl outside and hide 
under the edges of the hive. But sooner or later they 
are all killed or kicked out. The drone makes no re- 



Prose 251 

sistance, except to pull back and try to get away; but 
(putting yourself in his place) with one bee ahold of 
your collar or the hair of your head, and another 
ahold of each arm or leg, and still another feeling 
for your waistband with her sting, the odds are greatly 
against you. 

The Autocracy of Youth and the Modesty of 
Age. 

ROBERT BROWNING, 1812-1889. 

For John, who, at the age of nine, pounded Alfred "because he 
wouldn't be friends." You were "partly endurable" and if you take 
this "speech" to heart and say it often enough, you will get better as 
you get older. 

You only do right to believe you will get better as 
you get older! AH men do so, — they are worst in 
childhood, improve in manhood, and get ready in old 
age for another world. Youth, with its Beauty and 
Grace, would seem bestowed on us for some such rea- 
son as to make us partly endurable till we have time 
for really becoming so of ourselves, without their aid, 
when they leave us. The sweetest child we all smile 
on for his pleasant want of the whole world to break 
up, or suck in his mouth, seeing no other good in it 
— would be rudely handled by that world's inhabitants, 
if he retained those angelic infantine desires when he 
has grown six feet high, black and bearded : but, little 
by little, he sees fit to forego claim after claim on the 
world, puts up with a less and less share of its good 
as his proper portion, — and when the octogenarian 
asks barely a sup of gruel and a fire of dry sticks, and 
thanks you as for his full allowance and right in the 
common good of life, — hoping nobody may murder 
him, — he who began by asking and expecting the whole 
of us to bow down in worship to him, — why, I say he 
is advanced, far onward, very far, nearly out of sight. 



252 Prose 



The Particular Lady. 

For a particular boy who takes an hour a day to arrange his neck-tie. 

Did you ever live with a particular lady? — one pos- 
sessed not simply with the spirit, but the demon of 
tidiness, — who will give you a two hours' lecture upon 
the sin of an untied shoe-string, and raise a hurri- 
cane about your ears on the enormity of a fractured 
glove? who will be struck speechless at the sight of a 
pin instead of a string, or set a whole house in an up- 
roar, on finding a book on the table instead of in the 
book-case? Those who have had the misfortune to 
meet with such a person will know how to sympathise 
with me. I have passed two whole months with a 
particular lady. 

I had often received very pressing invitations to 
visit an old schoolfellow, who is settled in a snug par- 
sonage, about fifty miles from town; but something 
or other was continually occurring to prevent me from 
availing myself of them. But, on the 17th of June, 
having a few spare weeks at my disposal, I set out 
for my chum's residence. He received me with his 
wonted cordiality ; but I fancied that he looked a little 
more care-worn than a man of thirty might be ex- 
pected to look, — married as he is to the woman of his 
choice, and in the possession of an easy fortune. 

Poor fellow! I did not know that his wife was a 
precisian. The first hint I received of the fact was 
from Mr. S., who, removing my hat from the first 
peg in the hall to the fourth, observed, "My wife is 
a little particular in these matters ; the first peg is for 
my hat, the second for William's, the third for Tom's, 
and you can reserve the fourth, if you please, for 
your own: ladies, you know, do not like to have their 
arrangements interfered with." 

I promised to do my best to recollect the order of 
precedence with respect to the hats, and walked up- 



Prose 253 

stairs, impressed with an awful veneration for a lady 
who had contrived to impose so rigid a discipline on 
a man formerly the most disorderly of mortals. I 
mentally resolved to obtain her favour by the most 
studious observance of her wishes. 

I might as well have determined to be Emperor of 
China! Before the week was at an end, I was a lost 
man. I always reckon myself tolerably tidy; never 
leaving more than half my clothes on the floor of my 
dressing-room, nor more than a dozen books about 
any apartment I may happen to occupy for an hour. 
I do not lose more than a dozen handkerchiefs in a 
month; nor have more than a quarter of an hour's 
hunt for my hat or gloves, whenever I am going out 
in a hurry. 

I found all this was but as dust in the balance. The 
first time I sat down to dinner, I made a horrible 
blunder; for, in my haste to help my friend to some 
asparagus, I pulled a dish a little out of its place, 
thereby deranging the exact hexagonal order in which 
the said dishes were arranged. I discovered my mis- 
hap on hearing Mr. S. sharply rebuked for a similar 
offence. 

Secondly, I sat, the whole evening, with the cushion 
a full finger's length beyond the cane-work of my 
chair ; and, what is worse, I do not know that I should 
have been aware of my delinquency, if the agony of 
the lady's feelings had not overpowered every consid- 
eration, and at last compelled her to burst forth, — 

''Excuse me, Mr. , but, do, pray, put your cushion 

straight: it annoys me beyond measure to see it 
otherwise !" 

My third offence was displacing the snuffer-stand 
from its central position between the candlesticks ; 
my fourth, leaving a pamphlet I had been perusing on 
the pianoforte ; its proper place being a table in the mid- 
dle of the room, on which all books in present use were 
ordered to repose; my fifth — but, in short I should 



254 Prose 

never have done, were I to enumerate every separate 
enormity of which I was guilty. My friend S.'s draw- 
ing-room has as good a right to exhibit a placard of 
"Steel traps and spring guns" as any park I am ac- 
quainted with. 

Even those "chartered libertines," the children and 
dogs, were taught to be as demure and hypocritical 
as the matronly tabby-cat herself, who sat with her 
two fore-feet together and her tail curled round her, 
as exactly as if she had been worked in an urn-rug, 
instead of being a living mouser. It was the utmost 
stretch of my friend's marital authority to get his 
favourite spaniel admitted to the honour of the par- 
lour, and even this privilege is only granted in his mas- 
ter's presence. If Carlo happens to pop his unlucky 
brown nose into the room when S. is from home, he re- 
treats directly, with as much consciousness in his ears 
and tail as if he had been convicted of larceny in the 
kitchen, and anticipated the application of the broom- 
stick. 

As to the children, I believe that they look forward 
to their evening visit to the drawing-room with much 
the same sort of feeling. Not that Mrs. S. is an un- 
kind mother, or, I should rather say, not that she 
means to be so; but she has taken it into her head 
that, as young people have sometimes short memories, 
it is necessary to put them verbally in mind of their 
duties, "from morn till dewy eve." 

So it is with her servants. If one of them leaves a 
broom or a duster out of its place for a second, she 
hears of it for a month afterwards. I wonder how 
they endure it ! I have sometimes thought that, from 
long practice, they do not heed it, as a friend of mine 
who lives in a bustling street in the city tells me he 
does not hear the noise of the coaches and carts in 
front of his house, nor even of a brazier who hammers 
away in his near neighbourhood from morning till 
night. 



Prose 255 

The worst of it Is, that while Mrs. S. never allows 
a moment's peace to her husband, children or servants, 
she thinks herself a jewel of a wife; but such jewels 
are too costly for every-day wear. I am sure poor S. 
thinks so in his heart, and would be content to ex- 
change half-a-dozen of his wife's tormenting good 
qualities, for the sake of being allowed a little com- 
monplace repose. 

I never shall forget the delight I felt on entering 
my own house, after enduring her thraldom for two 
months. I absolutely revelled in disorder. I tossed 
my hat one way, my gloves another; pushed all the 
chairs into the middle of the room, and narrowly es- 
caped cuffing my faithful Christopher, for offering to 
put it "in order" again,— ''straightening," as they call 
it in Cheshire. That awful "spirit of order!" For 
my own part, I do so execrate the phrase, that if I 
were a member of the House of Commons, and the 
"order" of the day were called for, I should make it 
a "rule" to walk out. 

Good-Breeding. 

(Permission of Houghton, Mifflin & Company.) 
C. HANFORD HENDERSON, 1861. 

I HAVE always been profoundly thankful that my 
family are well-bred, very much more thankful for 
this than for the accident that we have money. I 
could get along very well without the money, for if 
I were put to it, I could always earn enough, and 
honourably, to have at least a decent living, but life 
without the simplicity and high spirit that come with 
good-breeding would seem to me a very arid desert, 
a gift of more than doubtful value. I have met good- 
breeding in all classes of society, sometimes among the 
rich, sometimes among the poor, most frequently 
among the great middle classes. It is a mistake, 
though, to suppose that any one class has a monopoly 



256 Prose 

of it, either rich or poor, cultivated or ignorant. Con- 
sidering their advantages, I think that educated peo- 
ple are more deficient than others. I have known 
college professors less well-bred by far than even the 
majority of the people they looked down upon. Good 
breeding is not a manner, a coat of varnish that a 
man may put on and off at his pleasure. 

A man cannot be well-bred and ill-bred the same 
week, or the same month, or the same year. 

Good-breeding is religion done in terms of everyday 
life. I do not exaggerate when I say that it is the 
most important thing of all the many things that are. 
A man's breeding is the measure of his social evolu- 
tion. It stamps his greater or less kinship to the gods. 

The Passion for Perfection. 

(Permission of The Outlook.) 
HAMILTON W. MABIE, 1846. IN "THE OUTLOOK." 

There is in the life of the artist an element of pain 
which in men of coarser mould never goes beyond a 
dumb sense of discontent : for the artist is compelled 
to live with his ideals. Other men have occasional 
glimpses of their ideals ; the artist lives his life in their 
presence and under their searching glances. A man is 
in the way to become genuine and noble when his 
ideals draw near and make their home with him in- 
stead of floating before him like summer clouds for- 
ever dissolving and reforming on the distant horizon; 
but he is also in the way of very real anguish of spirit. 
Our ideals, when we establish them under our own 
roofs, are as relentless as the Furies who thronged 
about Orestes; they will not let us rest. The world 
may applaud, but if they avert their faces, reputa- 
tion is a mockery and success a degradation. The pas- 
sion for perfection is the divinest possession of the 
soul, but it makes all lower gratifications, all com- 
promises with the highest standards, impossible. The 



Prose 257 

man whom it dominates can never taste the easy satis- 
factions which assuage the thirst of those who have 
it not; for him it must always be the best or nothing. 
This passionate pursuit of the finahties of form and 
expression is as far removed from the pursuit of mere 
craftsmanship as art itself is separated from mere 
mechanical skill. And yet so little is the real signifi- 
cance of art understood among us that it is continually 
confused with craftsmanship, and is spoken of as 
something apart from a man's self, something born of 
skill and akin to the mechanical, instead of being the 
very last and supreme outflowering of that within us 
which is spontaneous and inspired. 

The Hebrew Nationality. 

HANNAH ADAMS, 1755-1832. 
To all Christians because they worship the King of the Jews. 

The history of the Jews is remarkable above that of 
all other Nations for the number and cruelty of the 
persecutions they have endured. They are venerable 
for the antiquity of their origin. They are discrim- 
inated from the rest of mankind by their wonderful 
destination, peculiar habits, and religious rites. Since 
the destruction of Jerusalem, and their universal dis- 
persion, we contemplate the singular phenomenon of 
a nation subsisting for ages without its civil and re- 
ligious polity, and thus surviving its political existence. 

But the Jews appear in a far more interesting light, 
when considered as a standing monument of the truth 
of the Christian Religion ; as an ancient Church of God, 
to whom were committed the Sacred Oracles; as a 
people selected from all nations to make known and 
preserve the knowledge of the True God. To them 
the Gospel was first preached, and from them the first 
Christian Church in Jerusalem was collected. To them 
we are indebted for the Scriptures of the New as 
well as of the Old Testament. To them were given 



258 Prose 

the spirit of Prophecy, and the power of working 
Miracles. From them were derived an illustrious train 
of Prophets and Apostles. "To them pertaineth the 
adoption and the glory, the service of God and the 
promises ; and of them, as concerning the flesh, Christ 
came." 

The preservation of this extraordinary people dur- 
ing their calamitous dispersion, exhibits the faithful- 
ness of the Deity in fulfilling his gracious promise, that 
"when they are in the land of their enemies, He will 
not cast them away, nor destroy them utterly." 
Though from the destruction of Jerusalem to the six- 
teenth century there are few countries in which they 
have not been successfully banished, recalled, and 
again expelled, yet they have never been banished from 
one country without finding an asylum in another. 



Emancipation of Negroes in the British West 
Indies. 

(Permission of Houghton, MifBin & Company.) 

R. W. EMERSON, 1803-1882. FROM THE EMANCIPATION 
ADDRESS DELIVERED IN CONCORD, MASS., AUGUST i, 
1844. 

My Country is the World. My Countrymen are all Mankind. — 
William Lloyd Garrison. 

Gentlemen, I thought the deck of a Massachusetts 
ship was as much the territory of Massachusetts, as 
the floor on which we stand. It should be as sacred as 
the temple of God. The poorest fishing-smack that 
floats under the shadow of an iceberg in the north- 
ern seas, or hunts the whale in the southern ocean, 
should be encompassed by her laws with comfort and 
protection, as much as within the arms of Cape Ann 
and Cape Cod. And this kidnapping is suffered within 
our own land and federation, whilst the fourth article 
of the Constitution of the United States ordains in 
terms, that, *'The citizens of each State shall be en- 



Prose 259 

titled to all privileges and immunities of citizens in 
the several States." If such a damnable outrage can 
be committed on the person of a citizen with impunity, 
let the Governor break the broad seal of the State; 
he bears the sword in vain. The Governor of Massa- 
chusetts is a trifler: the State-house in Boston is a 
play-house: the General Court is a dishonoured body: 
if they make laws which they cannot execute. The 
great-hearted Puritans have left no posterity. The 
rich men may walk in State-street, but they walk with- 
out honour; and the farmers may brag their democ- 
racy in the country, but they are disgraced men. If 
the State has no power to defend its own people in 
its own shipping, because it has delegated that power 
to the Federal Government, has it no representation 
in the Federal Government? Are those men dumb? 
I am no lawyer, and cannot indicate the forms appli- 
cable to the case, but here is something which tran- 
scends all forms. Let the senators and representatives 
of the State, containing a population of a million 
freemen, go in a body before the Congress, and say, 
that they have a demand to make on them so impera- 
tive, that all functions of government must stop until 
it is satisfied. If ordinary legislation cannot reach it, 
then extraordinary must be applied. 



Running Business on the Golden Rule. 

(Copyrighted by John Trotwood Moore.) 

JOHN TROTWOOD MOORE, 1858. FROM "THE BISHOP 
OF COTTONTOWN." 

"Now," said the old man, after the mill had run 
two years and declared a semi-annual dividend, both 
years, of eight per cent each, "now you all see what it 
means to run even business by the Golden Rule. Here 
is the big fortune that I accidentally stumbled on, as 
everybody does who makes one — put out like God in- 



26o Prose 

tended it sh'ud, belonging to nobody and standing 
there, year after year, makin' a livin' an' a home an* 
life an' happiness for over fo' hundred people, year 
in an' year out, an' let us pray God, forever. It was 
not mine to begin with — it belonged to the worl'. God 
put the coal and iron in the ground, not for me, but 
for everybody. An' so I've given it to everybody. 
Because I happened to own the Ian' didn't make the 
treasure God put there mine, any mo' than the same 
land will be mine after I've passed away. We're only 
trustees for humanity for all we make mo' than we 
need, jus' as we're only tenants of God while we live 
on the earth. 

"Now, it's this a-way, God never intended for any 
people to work all the time between walls an' 
floors. Tilling the soil is the natural work of man, 
an' there is somethin' in the very touch of the ground 
to our feet that puts new life in our bodies. 

"The farmin' instinct is so natural in us that you 
can't stop it by flood or drought or failure. Year in 
an' year out the farmer will plant an' work his crop 
in spite of failure, hopin' every year to hit it the nex' 
time. Would a merchant or manufacturer or anybody 
else do that? No, they'd make an assignment the 
second year of failure. But not so with the farmer, 
and it shows God intended he shu'd keep at it. 

"Now, I'm goin' to give this mill a chance to raise 
its own cotton, besides everything its people needs to 
eat. I figger we can raise cotton cheaper than we 
can buy it, an' keep our folks healthy, too." 

The Bixby Letter. 

Hon. George S. Boutwell, Secretary of the Treas- 
ury, 1869-1873, writes in "Reminiscences of Abraham 
Lincoln" : 

Mr. Lincoln's goodness of nature was boundless. It 
found expression in that memorable letter to Mrs. 



Prose 261 

Bixby of Boston, who had given, irrevocably given, 
as was then supposed, five sons to the country. The 
letter was dated November 21, 1864, before the ex- 
citement of his second election was over. I imagine 
that all history and all literature may be searched, and 
in vain, for a funeral tribute so touching, so compre- 
hensive, so fortunate in expression. 

Dear Madam: — I have been shown, in the files of 
the War Department, a statement of the Adjutant- 
General of Massachusetts, that you are the mother of 
five sons who have died gloriously on the field of 
battle. I feel how weak and fruitless must be any 
words of mine which should attempt to beguile you 
from a loss so overwhelming. But I cannot refrain 
from tendering to you the consolation that may be 
found in the thanks of the Republic they died to save. 
I pray that our Heavenly Father may assuage the an- 
guish of your bereavement, and leave you only the 
cherished memory of the loved and lost, and the 
solemn pride that must be yours to have laid so costly 
a sacrifice upon the altar of freedom. 

Yours, very sincerely and respectfully, 

Abraham Lincoln. 

To Mrs. Bixby, Boston, Massachusetts. 



Johnson's Letter to Lord Chesterfield. 

My Lord, — I have been lately informed by the 
proprietor of The World that two papers, in which 
my Dictionary is recommended to the public, were 
written by your lordship. To be so distinguished is 
an honour which, being very little accustomed to fa- 
vours from the great, I know not well how to receive, 
or in what terms to acknowledge. 

When, upon some slight encouragement, I first 
visited your lordship, I was overpowered, like the rest 



262 Prase 

of mankind, by the enchantment of your address, and 
could not forbear to wish that I might boast myself 
le vainqucur dii vamqueur de la terre — that I might 
obtain that regard for which I saw the world con- 
tending; but I found my attendance so little encour- 
aged that neither pride nor modesty would suffer me 
to continue it. When I had once addressed your lord- 
ship in public, I had exhausted all the arts of pleasing 
which a wearied and uncourtly scholar can possess. 
I had done all that I could, and no man is well pleased 
to have his all neglected, be it ever so little. 

Seven years, my lord, have now passed since I 
waited in your outward rooms and was repulsed from 
your door; during which time I have been pushing 
on my work through difficulties of which it is useless 
to complain, and have brought it at last to the verge of 
publication without one act of assistance, one word of 
encouragement, and one smile of favour. Such treat- 
ment I did not expect, for I never had a patron before. 

The shepherd in Virgil grew at last acquainted with 
Love, and found him a native of the rocks. 

Is not a patron, my lord, one who looks with un- 
concern on a man struggling for life in the water, 
and when he has reached the ground encumbers him 
with help? The notice which you have been pleased 
to take of my labours, had it been early, had been 
kind ; but it has been delayed till I am indifferent, and 
cannot enjoy it; till I am solitary, and cannot impart 
it; till I am known, and do not want it. I hope it is 
no very cynical asperity not to confess obligations 
where no benefit has been received, or to be un- 
willing that the public should consider me as owing 
that to a patron which Providence has enabled me to 
do for myself. 

Having carried on my work thus far, with so little 
obligation to any favourer of learning, I shall not be 
disappointed though I should conclude it, should less 
be possible, with less; for I have been long wakened 



Prose 263 

from that dream of hope in which I once boasted my- 
self with so much exultation, my lord, 

Your lordship's most humble, most obedient, servant, 

Sam. Johnson. 

To the Earl of Chesterfield : February 7, 1755. 

Spartacus to the Gladiators. 

ELIJAH KELLOGG. 

This literary treasure stirred my blood when I was a mere child and 
it stirs my blood to-day. Not for the gladiators with their big muscles, 
in the arenas, but for the bloodless, nerveless, starved children in the 
arena who carry the burdens of the world on their shoulders. 

It had been a day of triumph in Capua. Lentulus, 
returning with victorious eagles, had amused the pop- 
ulace with the sports of the amphitheatre to an extent 
hitherto unknown even in that luxurious city. The 
shouts of revelry had died away; the roar of the 
lion had ceased; the last loiterer had retired from the 
banquet, and the lights in the palace of the victor were 
extinguished. The moon, piercing the tissue of fleecy 
clouds, silvered the dew-drops on the corselet of the 
Roman sentinel, and tipped the dark waters of the 
Vulturnus with a wavy, tremulous light. No sound 
was heard save the last sob of some retiring wave, 
telling its story to the smooth pebbles of the beach; 
and then all was still as the breast when the spirit 
has departed. In the deep recesses of the amphi- 
theatre a band of gladiators were assembled, their 
muscles still knotted with the agony of conflict, the 
foam upon their lips, the scowl of battle yet linger- 
ing on their brows, when Spartacus, starting forth 
from amid the throng, thus addressed them : 

"Ye call me chief ; and ye do well to call him chief 
who, for twelve long years, has met upon the arena 
every shape of man or beast the broad empire of 
Rome could furnish, and who never yet has lowered 
his arm. If there be one among you who can say that 
ever, in public fight or private brawl, my actions did 



264 Prose 

belie my tongue, let him stand forth and say it. If 
there be three in all your company dare face me on 
the bloody sands, let them come on. And yet I was 
not always thus — a hired butcher, a savage chief of 
still more savage men! My ancestors came from old 
Sparta, and settled among the vine-clad rocks and 
citron groves of Syrasella, My early life ran quiet as 
the brooks by which I sported; and when, at noon, I 
gathered the sheep beneath the shade and played upon 
the shepherd's flute, there was a friend, the son of a 
neighbour, to join me in the pastime. 

"We led our flocks to the same pasture, and par- 
took together of our rustic meal. One evening, after 
the sheep were folded, and we were all seated beneath 
the myrtle which shaded our cottage, my grandsire, an 
old man, was telling of Marathon and Leuctra, and 
how, in ancient times, a little band of Spartans, in a 
defile of the mountains, had withstood a whole army. 
I did not then know what war was; but my cheeks 
burned, I knew not why, and I clasped the knees of 
that venerable man, until my mother, parting the hair 
from off my forehead kissed my throbbing temples, and 
bade me go to rest, and think no more of those old 
tales and savage wars. That very night the Romans 
landed on our coast. I saw the breast that had nour- 
ished me trampled by the hoof of the war-horse, 
the bleeding body of my father flung amid the blazing 
rafters of our dwelling! 

*'To-day I killed a man in the arena, and when I 
broke his helmet clasps, behold, he was my friend. 
He knew me, smiled faintly, gasped, and died; the 
same sweet smile upon his lips that I had marked 
when, in adventurous boyhood, we scaled the lofty cliff 
to pluck the first ripe grapes and bear them home 
in childish triumph. I told the praetor that the dead 
man had been my friend, generous and brave, and I 
begged that I might bear away his body, to burn it 
on a funeral pile and mourn over its ashes. Ay, upon 



Prose 265 

my knees, amid the dust and blood of the arena, I 
begged that poor boon, while all the assembled maids 
and matrons, and the holy virgins they call vestals, and 
the rabble, shouted in derision, deeming it rare sport, 
forsooth, to see Rome's fiercest gladiator turn pale 
and tremble at sight of that piece of bleeding clay! 
And the praetor drew back as I were pollution, and 
sternly said, 'Let the carrion rot; there are no noble 
men but Romans !' And so, fellow-gladiators, must you, 
and so must I, die like dogs. O Rome! Rome! thou 
hast been a tender nurse to me. Ay, thou hast given 
to that poor, gentle, timid shepherd-lad who never 
knew a harsher tone than a flute-note, muscles of iron 
and a heart of flint; taught him to drive the sword 
through plaited mail and links of rugged brass, and 
warm it in the marrow of his foe; to gaze into the 
glaring eyeballs of the fierce Numidian lion, even as 
a boj upon a laughing girl. And he shall pay thee 
back, until the yellow Tiber flows red as frothing wine, 
and in its deepest ooze thy life-blood lies curdled! 

**Ye stand here now like giants, as ye are. The 
strength of brass is in your toughened sinews ; but to- 
morrow some Roman Adonis, breathing sweet perfume 
from his curly locks, shall with his lily fingers pat 
your red brawn and bet his sesterces upon your blood. 
Hark ! hear ye yon lion roaring in his den ? 'Tis three 
days since he has tasted flesh, but to-morrow he shall 
break his fast upon yours, and a dainty meal for him 
ye will be. If ye are beasts, then stand here like fat 
oxen waiting for the butcher's knife! If ye are men, 
follow me! Strike down yon guard, gain the moun- 
tain passes, and there do bloody work, as did your 
sires at old Thermopylae ! Is Sparta dead ? Is the old 
Grecian spirit frozen in your veins, that you do crouch 
and cower like a belaboured hound beneath his master's 
lash ? Oh, comrades ! warriors ! Thracians ! if we must 
fight, let us fight for ourselves! If we must slaughter, 
let us slaughter our oppressors! If we must die, let 



266 Prose 

it be under the clear sky; by the bright waters; in 
noble, honourable battle." 

The Character of William Pitt, Earl of Chatham. 

HENRY GRATTAN, 1 746-1820. 

The secretary stood alone. Modern degeneracy had 
not reached him. Original and unaccommodating, the 
features of his character had the hardihood of an- 
tiquity. His august mind overawed majesty; and one 
of his sovereigns thought majesty so impaired in his 
presence, that he conspired to remove him, in order 
to be relieved from his superiority. No state chican- 
ery, no narrow system of vicious politics, no idle con- 
test for ministerial victories, sank him to the vulgar 
level of the great; but overbearing, persuasive, and 
impracticable, his object was England, his ambition 
was fame. 

Without dividing, he destroyed party; without cor- 
rupting, he made a venal age unanimous. France sank 
beneath him. With one hand he smote the house of 
Bourbon, and wielded in the other the democracy of 
England. The sight of his mind was infinite ; and his 
schemes were to affect, not England, not the present 
age only, but Europe and posterity. Wonderful were 
the means by which those schemes were accomplished ; 
always seasonable, — always adequate, — the suggestion 
of an understanding animated by ardour and enlight- 
ened by prophecy. 

The ordinary feelings which make life amiable and 
indolent were unknown to him. No domestic difficul- 
ties, no domestic weakness reached him; but aloof 
from the sordid occurrences of life, and unsullied by 
its intercourse, he came occasionally into our system, 
to counsel and decide. A character so exalted, so 
strenuous, so various, so authoritative astonished a 
corrupt age, and the Treasury trembled at the name 
of Pitt, through all her classes of venality. Cor- 



Prose 267 

ruption imagined, indeed, that she had found defects 
in this statesman and talked much of the incon- 
sistency of his glory, and much of the ruin of his 
victories — but the history of his country, and the 
calamities of the enemy, answered and refuted her. 

Nor were his political abilities his only talents. His 
eloquence was an era in the Senate, peculiar, and 
spontaneous, familiarly expressing gigantic sentiments 
and instructive wisdom not like the torrent of Demos- 
thenes, or the splendid conflagration of Tully; it re- 
sembled sometimes the thunder, and sometimes the 
music, of the spheres. He did not conduct the under- 
standing through the painful subtility of argumenta- 
tion, nor was he forever on the rack of exertion; but 
rather lightened upon the subject, and reached the 
point by the flashings of his mind, which, like those of 
his eye, were felt, but could not be followed. 

Upon the whole, there was in this man something 
that could create, subvert, or reform, — an understand- 
ing, — a spirit and an eloquence to summon mankind 
to society, or to break the bonds of slavery asunder, 
and to rule the wildness of free minds with unbounded 
authority; something that could establish, or over- 
whelm empires, and strike a blow in the world that 
should resound through the universe. 

Defence of Socrates. 

PLATO ("THE APOLOGY"). 

This selection has been handed to me by a pupil of mine, who cared 
for it as a child and cares for it as a woman. 

How you have felt, O men of Athens, at hearing 
the speeches of my accusers, I cannot tell, but I know 
that their persuasive words almost made me forget who 
I was, such was the effect of them ; and yet they have 
hardly spoken a word of truth. But many as their 
falsehoods were, there was one of them which quite 
amazed me : I mean when they told you to be on your 



268 Prose 

guard and not to let yourselves be deceived by the 
force of my eloquence. They ought to have been 
ashamed of saying this, because they were sure to be 
detected as soon as I opened my lips and displayed 
my deficiency; unless by the force of eloquence they 
meant the force of truth ; for there I do indeed admit 
that I am eloquent. Never mind the manner of my 
speaking, which may or may not be good, but think 
only of the justice of my cause, and give heed to that: 
let the judge decide justly and the speaker speak truly. 

And first I have to reply to the older charges and 
to my first accusers. For I have had many accusers 
who accused me of old, and their false charges have 
continued during many years; and I am more afraid 
of them than of Anytus and his associates, who are 
dangerous too in their own way. But far more danger- 
ous are those who began when you were children and 
took possession of your minds with their falsehoods 
telling of one Socrates, a wise man, who speculated 
about the heaven above and searched into the earth 
beneath, and made the worse appear the better cause. 
These are the accusers whom I dread ; and they are 
many and their charges are of ancient date, and the 
cause when heard went by default, for there was none 
to answer. 

I dare say that some one will ask the question, "What 
is the origin of these accusations ; for there must have 
been something strange which you have been doing." 
Now I regard this as a fair challenge, and I will en- 
deavour to explain to you the origin of this name of 
*'wise," and of the evil fame. You must have known 
Chserephon: — Well, Chaerephon, as you know, was 
very impetuous in all his doings, and he went to Delphi 
and boldly asked the oracle to tell him whether there 
was any one wiser than Socrates, and the Pythian 
prophetess answered that there was no man wiser. 
When I heard the answer I said to myself, "What can 
the God mean? and what is the interpretation of this 



Prose 269 

riddle? for I know that I have no wisdom, small or 
great. And yet he is a God and cannot lie." Accord- 
ingly I went to one man after another. I said to 
myself, "Go I must to all who appear to know, and 
find out the meaning of the oracle." And I swear to 
you, Athenians, the result of my mission was just this : 
I found that the men most in repute were all but the 
most foolish. This investigation has led to my hav- 
ing many enemies of the worst and most dangerous 
kind, and I am called wise, for my hearers always 
imagine that I myself possess the wisdom which I 
find wanting in others : but the truth is, O men of 
Athens, that God only is wise; and in the oracle he 
means to say that the wisdom of men is little or noth- 
ing. He is not speaking of Socrates, he is only using 
my name as an illustration, as if he said, "He, O men, 
is the wisest, who, like Socrates, knows that his wis- 
dom is in truth worth nothing." 

I have said enough in answer to the charge; any 
elaborate defence is unnecessary; but as I was say- 
ing before I certainly have many enemies, and this 
will be my destruction if I am destroyed ; of that I 
am certain ; not Meletus, nor yet Anytus, but the envy 
and detraction of the world, which has been the death 
of many good men, and will probably be the death of 
many more; there is no danger of my being the last 
of them. 

Some one will say, "And are you not ashamed, Socra- 
tes, of a course of life which is likely to bring you 
to an untimely end?" To him I may fairly answer, 
"There you are mistaken ; a man who is good for any- 
thing ought not to calculate the chance of living or 
dying; he ought only to consider whether in doing 
anything he is doing right or wrong — acting the part 
of a good man or of a bad one." Whereas, accord- 
ing to your view, the heroes who fell at Troy were not 
good for much, and the son of Thetis above all, who 
altogether despised danger in comparison with dis- 



2/0 Prose 

grace; and when his goddess mother said to him, in 
his eagerness to slay Hector, that if he avenged his 
companion Patroclus, and slew Hector, he would die 
himself — "Fate," as she said, "waits upon you next 
after Hector," he, hearing this, utterly despised danger 
and death, and instead of fearing them, feared rather 
to live in dishonour, and not to avenge his friend. For 
wherever a man's place is, whether the place which 
he has chosen or that in which he has been placed 
by a commander, there he ought to remain in the hour 
of danger. And this, O men of Athens, is a true 
saying. 

Strange indeed would be my conduct, O men of 
Athens, if I who, when I was ordered by the generals 
whom you chose to command me at Potidsea and Am- 
phipolis and Delium, remained where they placed me, 
like any other man, facing death, — if, I say now, when 
as I conceived and imagine, God orders me to fulfil 
the philosopher's mission of searching into myself and 
other men, I were to desert my post through fear of 
death. And if you say to me now, "Socrates, this time 
we will not mind Anytus, and will let you off, but upon 
one condition, that you are not to inquire and specu- 
late in this way any more, and that if you are caught 
doing this again, you shall die," — if this were the con- 
dition on which you let me go, I should reply, "Men 
of Athens, I honour and love you, but I shall obey 
God rather than you, and while I have life and 
strength, I shall never cease from the practice and 
teaching of philosophy." For this is the command of 
God, as I would have you know, and I believe that 
to this day no greater good has ever happened in the 
state than my service to the God. For I do noth- 
ing but go about persuading you all, old and young 
alike, not to take thought for your persons or your 
properties, but first and chiefly to care about the great- 
est improvement of the soul. I tell you that virtue 
is not given by money, but that from virtue come 



Prose 2/1 

money and every other good of man, public as well 
as private. I have something more to say at which 
you may be inclined to cry out, but I beg that you will 
not do this. I would have you know that if you kill 
such a one as I am, you will injure yourselves more 
than you will injure me. Meletus and Anytus will not 
injure me ; they cannot ; for it is not in the nature of 
things that a bad man should injure a better than him- 
self. I do not deny that he may perhaps kill him, or 
drive him into exile, or deprive him of civil rights ; 
and he may imagine, and others may imagine, that he 
is doing him a great injury; but in that I do not agree 
with him. 

And now, Athenians, I am not going to argue for 
my own sake, as you may think, but for yours, that 
you may not sin against the God or lightly reject his 
boon by condemning me. For if you kill me you will 
not easily find another like me, who, if I may use 
such a ludicrous figure of speech, am a sort of gadfly 
v/hich God has given the State, and all day long and in 
all places am always fastening upon you, arousing and 
persuading and reproaching you. I dare say you may 
feel irritated at being suddenly awakened when you 
are caught napping; and you may think that if you 
were to strike me dead as Anytus advises, which you 
easily might, then you would sleep on for the remain- 
der of your lives, unless God, in his care of you, gives 
you another gadfly. And that I am given to you by 
God is proved by this: that if I had been like other 
men, I should not have neglected all my own concerns 
during all these years and have been doing yours, com- 
ing to you individually, like a father or elder brother, 
exhorting you to virtue. And had I gained anything, 
or if my exhortations had been paid, there would have 
been some sense in that ; but now, as you will perceive, 
not even the impudence of my accusers dares to say 
that I have ever exacted or sought pay of any one; 
they have no witness of that. And I have a witness of 



272 Prose 

the truth of what I say; my poverty is a sufficient 
witness. 

Well, Athenians, this, and the like of this, is nearly 
all the defence which I have to offer. Yet a word 
more. Perhaps there may be some one who is of- 
fended at me, when he calls to mind how he himself 
on a similar, or even a less serious occasion, had re- 
course to prayers and supplications with many tears, 
and how he produced his children in court, which was 
a moving spectacle, together with a posse of his rela- 
tives and friends ; whereas I, who am probably in dan- 
ger of my life, will do none of these things. Now if 
there be such a person among you, which I am far 
from affirming, I may fairly reply to him : '*My friend, 
I am a man, and like other men, a creature of flesh 
and blood, and not of wood or stone." I have a 
family, yes, and sons, O Athenians, three in number, 
one of whom is growing up, and the two others are 
still young; and yet I will not bring any of them hither 
to petition you for an acquittal. And why not? Not 
from any self-will or disregard of you. But I feel 
such conduct to be discreditable to myself, and you, 
and the whole state. There seems to be something 
wrong in petitioning a judge, and thus procuring an 
acquittal instead of informing and convincing him. 
For his duty is not to make a present of justice, but 
to give judgment. Do not then require me to do what 
I consider dishonourable and impious and wrong, 
especially now, when I am being tried for impiety. For 
if, O men of Athens, by force of persuasion and en- 
treaty, I could overpower your oaths, then I should 
be teaching you to believe that there are no gods, and 
convict myself, in my own defence, of not believing 
in them. But that is not the case ; for I do believe 
that there are gods, and in a far higher sense than 
that in which any of my accusers believe in them. And 
to you and to God I commit my cause to be determined 
by you as is best for you and me. 



Prose 273 



The Speech of Socrates on His Own 
Condemnation. 

PLATO ("THE APOLOGY"). 

The following speech is the address of Socrates to the judges and his 
friends after his condemnation. 

There are many reasons why I am not grieved, O 
men of Athens, at the vote of condemnation. I ex- 
pected this, and am only surprised that the votes are 
so nearly equal. 

And so the penalty is death ! 

You think that I was convicted through deficiency 
of words — I mean, that if I had thought fit to leave 
nothing undone, nothing unsaid, I might have gained 
an acquittal. But I thought that I ought not to do 
anything common or mean in the hour of danger ; nor 
do I now repent of the manner of my defence; for 
I would rather die having spoken after my own man- 
ner than speak in your manner and live. For neither 
in war, nor yet at law, ought any man to use every way 
of escaping death. For often in battle there is no 
doubt that if a man will throw away his arms and 
fall on his knees before his pursuers, he may escape 
death; and in other dangers there are other ways of 
escaping death, if a man is willing to say and do any- 
thing. The difficulty, my friends, is not in avoiding 
death, but in avoiding unrighteousness ; for that runs 
faster than death. I am old and move slowly, and 
the slower runner has overtaken me ; and my accusers 
are keen and quick, and the faster runner, who is 
unrighteousness, has overtaken them. And now I de- 
part hence condemned by you to suffer the penalty of 
death, and they too go their ways condemned by the 
truth to suffer the penalty of villainy and wrong; and 
I must abide by my award — let them abide by theirs. 
I suppose these things may be regarded as fated, — and 
I think that they are well. 

And now, O men who have condemned me, I would 



274 Prose 

fain prophesy to you, for I am about to die, and that 
is the hour in which men are gifted with prophetic 
power. And I prophesy to you who are my murderers, 
that immediately after my death punishment far 
heavier than you have inflicted on me will fall on you. 
P'or if you think that by killing men you can avoid 
the accuser censuring your lives, you are mistaken; 
that is not a way to escape which is either possible 
or honourable ; the easiest and the noblest way is not 
to be crushing others, but to be improving yourselves. 
This is the prophecy which I utter before my de- 
parture, to the judges who have condemned me. 

Friends who would have acquitted me, I would like 
also to talk with you about this thing which has hap- 
pened, before I go to the place at which I must die. 

my judges, — for you I may truly call judges, — be 
of good cheer about death, and know this of a truth — 
that no evil can happen to a good man, either in life 
or after death. He and his are not neglected by the 
gods; nor has my own approaching end happened by 
mere chance. But I see clearly that to die and be 
released were better for me. For which reason, also, 

1 am not angry with my accusers or my condemners; 
they have done me no harm, although neither of them 
meant to do me any good; and for this I may gently 
blame them. 

Still I have a favour to ask of them. When my 
sons are grown up, I would ask you, O my friends, 
to punish them; and I would have you trouble them, 
as I have troubled you, if they seem to care about 
riches, or anything, more than about virtue; or if 
they pretend to be something when they are really 
nothing. And if you do this, I and my sons will have 
received justice at your hands. 

The hour of departure has arrived and we go our 
ways — I to die, and you to live. Which is better God 
only knows. 



Prose 275 

Death of Socrates. 

PLATO 427 B.C.— 347 B.C. FROM "THE PHAEDO." 

This selection is placed here because it invariably appealed to the 
young people of every class that read it in our golden reading hours. 

"Breathes there a man with soul so dead," that he can read The 
Death of Socrates and not weep? Let us hope not. Twenty years ago 
our Leader read it to us, the tears chasing each other down his cheeks; 
and here we are, reading it with tears in our eyes. 

"Soon must I drink the poison. Already, the voice 
of fate calls me, — as the tragic poets would say. But 
let a man who has cast away the pleasures of the 
body as alien to him be of good cheer about his soul; 
the man who has sought the pleasures of knowledge 
in this life, — who has adorned his soul in her own 
proper jewels, which are temperance, and justice, and 
courage, and nobility, and truth ; in these she is ready 
to go on her journey to the world below when her 
time comes." 

When he had done speaking, Crito said : "And have 
you any commands for us, Socrates, — anything to say 
about your children, or any other matter in which 
we can serve you?" 

"Nothing particular," he said, "only, as I have al- 
ready told you, I would have you look to yourselves; 
that is a service which you may always be doing to me 
and mine as well as to yourselves. And you need not 
make professions ; for if you take no thought for your- 
selves, and walk not according to the precepts which I 
have given you not now for the first time, the warmth 
of your professions will be of no avail." 

"We will do our best," said Crito. "But in what 
way would you have us bury you?" 

"In any way that you like; only you must get hold 
of me, and take care that I do not walk away from 
you." Then he turned to us, and added with a smile : 
"I cannot make Crito believe that I am the same Soc- 
rates who have been talking; he fancies that I am the 
other Socrates whom he will soon see, a dead body 



276 Prose 

— and he asks how he shall bury me. And though 
I have spoken many words in the endeavour to show 
that when I have drunk the poison I shall leave you 
and go to the joys of the blessed — these words of 
mine, with which I comforted you and myself, have 
had, as I perceived, no effect upon Crito. And there- 
fore, I want you to be surety for me now, that I shall 
not remain but go away and depart; and then he will 
suffer less at my death, and not be grieved when he 
sees my body being burned or buried. I would not 
have him sorrow at my hard lot, or say at the burial, 
Thus we lay out Socrates,' or 'Thus we follow him to 
the grave or bury him!' for false words are not only 
evil in themselves, but they infect the soul with evil. 
Be of good cheer then, my dear Crito, and say that 
you are burying my body only, and do with that as 
is usual, and as you think best." 

Soon the jailer entered and stood by him, saying: 
"To you, Socrates, whom I know to be the noblest and 
gentlest and best of all who ever came to this place, 
I will not impute the angry feelings of other men, 
who rage and swear at me when, in obedience to the 
authorities, I bid them drink the poison — indeed I am 
sure that you will not be angry with me; for others, 
as you are aware, and not I, are the guilty cause. 
And so fare you well, and try to bear lightly what 
must needs be ; you know my errand." Then bursting 
into tears, he turned away and went out. 

Socrates looked at him and said: 'T return your 
good wishes, and will do as you bid." Then ti^rning to 
us, he said, ''How charming the man is : since I have 
been in prison he has always been coming to see me, 
and at times he would talk to me, and was as good as 
could be to me, and now see how generously he sor- 
rows for me. But we must do as he says, Crito; let 
the cup be brought." 

The jailer handed the cup to Socrates, who in the 
easiest and gentlest manner, without the least fear or 



Prose 277 

change of colour or feature, looking at the man with 
all his eyes, as his manner was, took the cup and said : 
**What do you say about making a libation out of this 
cup to any god ? May I, or not ?" The man answered : 
"We only prepare, Socrates, just so much as we deem 
enough." ''1 understand," he said: "yet I may and 
must pray to the gods to prosper my journey from this 
to that other world — may this then, which is my prayer, 
be granted to me." Then holding the cup to his lips, 
quite readily and cheerfully he drank off the poison. 
And hitherto most of us had been able to control our 
, sorrow ; but now when we saw him drinking, and saw 
too that he had finished the draught, we could no 
longer forbear, and in spite of myself my own tears 
were flowing fast; so that I covered my face and 
wept over myself, for certainly I was not weeping 
over him, but at the thought of my own calamity in 
having lost such a companion. Nor was I the first, 
for Crito, when he found himself unable to restrain 
his tears, had got up and moved away, and I followed, 
and at that moment Apollodorus, who had been weep- 
ing all the time, broke out into a loud cry which made 
cowards of us all. Socrates alone retained his calm- 
ness : "What is this strange outcry," he said? "I have 
heard that a man should die in peace. Be quiet then, 
and have patience." When we heard that, we were 
ashamed, and refrained our tears; and he walked 
about, and then he lay on his back. He was begin- 
ning to grow cold, when he uncovered his face, for 
he had covered himself up, and said (they were his 
last words) — he said: "Crito, I owe a cock to As- 
clepius; will you remember to pay the debt?" "The 
debt shall be paid," said Crito ; "is there anything else ?" 
There was no answer to this question ; but in a minute 
or two a movement was heard, and the attendants un- 
covered him; his eyes were set, and Crito closed his 
eyes and mouth. 

Such was the end of our friend, whom I may truly 



2^8 Prose 

call the wisest, and justest, and best of all the men 
whom I have ever known. 



Not Vanquished by Philip. 

DEMOSTHENES. 384-322 B.C. FROM "THE ORATION ON THE 
CROWN." 

A WICKED thing, Athenians, a wicked thing is a 
calumniator, ever ; — querulous and industrious in seek- 
ing pretences of complaint. But this creature is des- 
picable by nature, and incapable of any trace of 
generous and noble deeds; ape of a tragedian, third- 
rate actor, spurious orator! For what, ^schines, 
does your eloquence profit the country? You now 
descant upon what is past and gone ; as if a physician, 
when called to patients in a sinking state, should give 
no advice, nor prescribe any course by which the dis- 
ease might be cured; but after one of them had died, 
and the last offices were performing to his remains, 
should follow him to the grave, and expound how the 
poor man never would have died had siich and such 
things only been done. Moonstricken ! is it now that 
at length you, too, speak out? 

As to the defeat, that incident in which you so exult 
(wretch! who should rather mourn for it), — look 
through my whole conduct, and you shall find noth- 
ing there that brought down this calamity on my coun- 
try. Consider only, Athenians: Never, from any 
embassy upon which you sent me, did I come off 
worsted by Philip's ambassadors ; not from Thessaly, 
not from Ambracia, not from Illyria, not from the 
Thracian kings, not from the Byzantians, nor from 
any other quarter whatever, — nor finally, of late, from 
Thebes. But wheresoever his negotiators were over- 
come in debate, thither Philip marched, and carried 
the day by his arms. Do you, then, exact this of me ; 
and are you not ashamed, at the moment you are up- 
braiding me for weakness, to require that I should 



Prose 279 

defy him single-handed, and by force of words alone? 
For what other weapons had I ? Certainly not the 
lives of men, nor the fortune of warriors, nor the 
military operations of which you are so blundering as 
to demand an account at my hands. 

But, whatever a minister can be accountable for, 
make of that the strictest scrutiny, and I do not object. 
What, then, falls within this description? To descry 
events in their first beginnings, to cast his look for- 
ward, and to warn others of their approach. All this 
I have done. Then to confine within the narrowest 
bounds all delays, and backwardness, and ignorance, 
and contentiousness, — faults which are inherent and 
unavoidable in all States ; and, on the other hand, to 
promote unanimity, and friendly dispositions, and zeal 
m the performance of public duty: — and all these 
things I likewise did, nor can any man point out any 
of them that, so far as depended on me, was left 
undone. 

If, then, it should be asked by what means Philip 
for the most part succeeded in his operations, every 
one would answer, By his army, by his largesses, by 
corrupting those at the head of affairs. Well, then, 
I neither had armies, nor did I command them; and 
therefore the argument respecting military operations 
cannot touch me. Nay, in so far as I was inacces- 
sible to bribes, there I conquered Philip! For, as he 
who purchases any one overcomes him who has re- 
ceived the price and sold himself, so he who will not 
take the money, nor consent to be bribed, has con- 
quered the bidder. Thus, as far as I am concerned, 
this country stands unconquered. 



28o Prose 



On the Law of Leptines. 

DEMOSTHENES, 384-322 B.C. FROM HIS SPEECH ON THE 
LAW OF LEPTINES TO REPEAL ALL EXEMPTIONS AND 
IMMUNITIES. 

Leptines was right and Demosthenes wrong. Children should earn 
their own living and their own glory and not force it or have it forced 
upon them by the State. The children of heroes should be heroes and 
not have it as an "office" to be the "son of a father." Prestige is a 
fungus. Inherited privileges from the State are dangerous. The 
beneficiaries— after a few generations — would be as numerous as nobles 
and princes in Europe — so numerous that a "common man" would be a 
real curiosity. 

To revoke gifts which the State has bestowed! It 
would be a breach of national faith. To attempt to 
bind Greece for all future time by a law which might 
be a check on patriotic impulses must be inexpedient. 
You have to consider, O Athenians, not merely 
whether you love money, but whether you love also 
a good name, for which you are more anxious than for 
money; and not you, only, but your ancestors, as I 
can prove. For when they had acquired wealth in 
abundance, they expended it all in pursuit of honour. 
For glory's sake they never shrank from any danger, 
but persevered to the last, spending even their private 
fortunes. Instead of a good name, this law fastens 
an opprobrium on the commonwealth, unworthy both 
of your ancestors and yourselves. It entails three of 
the greatest reproaches, the reputation of being en- 
vious, faithless and ungrateful. That it is altogether 
foreign to your character to establish a law like this, 
I will endeavour to prove in a few words by recount- 
ing one of the former acts of the State. The Thirty 
Tyrants are said to have borrowed money from the 
Lacedaemonians to attack the enemy in the Piraeus. 
When peace was restored the Lacedaemonians sent am- 
bassadors and demanded payment of their money. 
Upon this there arose a debate, and some contended 
that the borrowers should pay; others advised that 
it should be the first proof of harmony to join in dis- 
charging the debt. The people, we know, determined 



Prose 281 

to contribute privately, and share in the expense, to 
avoid breaking any article of their convention. Then, 
were it not shameful if, at that time, you chose to 
contribute money for the benefit of persons who had 
injured you, rather than break your word, — yet now, 
when it is in your power, without cost, to do justice to 
your benefactors by repealing this law, you should 
prefer to break your word. 

Every possible reproach should be avoided, but most 
of all, that of being envious. Why? Because envy 
is altogether the mark of a bad disposition, and to 
have this feeling is wholly unpardonable. Abhorring, 
ks our commonwealth does, everything disgraceful, 
there is no reproach from which she is further re- 
moved than from the imputation of being envious. 
Observe how strong are the proofs. In the first place 
you are the only people who have State funerals for 
the dead, and funeral orations in which you glorify 
the actions of brave men. Such a custom is that of 
a people which admires virtue, and does not envy 
others who are honoured for it. In the next place, 
you have ever bestowed the highest rewards upon those 
who* win the garlands in gymnastic contests; nor have 
you, because but few are born to partake of such re- 
wards, envied the parties receiving them, nor abridged 
your honours on that account. Add to these strik- 
ing evidences that no one appears ever to have sur- 
passed our State in liberality — such munificence has 
she displayed in requiting services. All these are 
manifestations of justice, virtue, magnanimity. Do 
not destroy the character for which our State has all 
along been renowned ; do not, in order that Leptines 
may wreak his personal malice upon some whom he 
dislikes, deprive the State and yourselves of the hon- 
ourable name which you have enjoyed throughout all 
time. Regard this as a contest purely for the dignity 
of Athens, whether it is to be maintained the same 
as before, or to be impaired and degraded. 



282 Prose 

Speech of a Scythian to Alexander. 

Q. CURTIUS. 

When the Scythian ambassadors waited on Alexander the Great, they 
were disappointed in finding him less commanding in his person and 
personality than might have been expected from his great fame. At 
last the oldest of the ambassadors addressed him as follows. 

Had the gods given thee, O Alexander, a body pro- 
portionable to thy ambition, the whole universe would 
have been too little for thee. With one hand thou 
wouldst touch the East, and with the other the West ; 
and not satisfied with this, thou wouldst follow the 
sun, and know where he hides himself. 

What have we to do with thee ? We never set foot 
in thy country. May not those who inhabit woods be 
allowed to live, without knowing who thou art, and 
whence thou comest ? We will neither command over, 
nor submit to any man. And that thou mayest be 
sensible what kind of people the Scythians are, know 
that we received from heaven, as a rich present, a yoke 
of oxen, a ploughshare, a dart, a javelin, and a cup. 
These we make use of, both with our friends, and 
against our enemies. To our friends we give corn, 
which we procure by the labour of our oxen; with 
our friends we offer wine to the gods, in our cup; 
and with regard to our enemies, we combat them at a 
distance with our arrows, and near at hand with our 
javelins. 

But thou, who boasteth thy coming to extirpate rob- 
bers, art thyself the greatest robber upon earth. Thou 
hast plundered all nations thou overcamest ; thou hast 
possessed thyself of Libya, invaded Syria, Persia, and 
Bactriana; thou art forming a design to march as far 
as India, and now thou comest hither to seize upon 
our herds of cattle. 

The great possessions thou hast, only make thee 
covet the more eagerly what thou hast not. If thou 
art a god, thou oughtest to do good to mortals, and 



Prose 283 

not deprive them of their possessions. If thou art 
a mere man, reflect always on what thou art. They 
whom thou shalt not molest will be thy true friends; 
the strongest friendship being contracted between 
equals; and they are esteemed equals who have not 
tried their strength against each other. But do not 
suppose that those whom thou conquerest can love 
thee. 



Caius Marius to the Romans, on the Objections to 
Making Him General. 

SALLUST. 

"You did not expect to find me a mere hack-driver, did you?" This 
question was put to me by a courteous hack-driver in Chicago who had 
been one of my good old pupils. "A good hack-driver has an honourable 
position in the world if he knows how to fill it well," I said. "It is 
better to be a good hack-driver than a Phaeton who tries to drive his 
father's golden chariot and ends in a mud-puddle." This selection is 
dedicated to the honourable labourer, and his boys at school. 

You have committed to my conduct, O Romans, the 
war against Jugurtha. The Patricians are offended at 
this. "He has no family statues," they exclaim. **He 
can point to no illustrious line of ancestors !" What 
then? Will dead ancestors, will motionless statues 
help fight your battles? Will it avail your General to 
appeal to these, in the perilous hour? Rare wisdom 
would it be, my countrymen, to intrust the command 
of your army to one whose only qualification for it 
would be the valour of his forefathers ! to one untried 
and unexperienced, but of most unexceptionable 
family! who could not show a solitary scar, but any 
number of ancestral statues ! who knew not the first 
rudiments of war, but was very perfect in pedigree! 
Truly I have known of such holiday heroes, — raised, 
because of family considerations, to a command for 
which they were not fitted, — who, when the moment 
for action arrived, were obliged, in their ignorance and 
trepidation, to give to some inferior officer, to some de- 
spised Plebeian — the ordering of every movement. 



284 Prose 

I submit it to you, Romans, — is Patrician pride or 
Plebeian experience the safer reliance ? The actions of 
which my opponents have merely read, I have achieved 
or shared in. What they have seen written in books,. 
I have seen written on battle-fields with steel and blood. 
They object to my humble birth. They sneer at my 
lowly origin. Impotent objection! Ignominious 
sneer! Where but in the spirit of a man (bear wit- 
ness, Gods ! ) , — where but in the spirit can his nobility 
be lodged? and where his dishonour, but in his own 
cowardly inaction, or his unworthy deeds? Tell these 
railers at my obscure extraction, their haughty lineage 
could not make them noble — my humble birth could 
never make me base. 

I profess no indifference to noble descent. It is a 
good thing to number great men among one's ances- 
try. But when a descendant is dwarfed in the com- 
parison, it should be accounted a shame rather than 
a boast. These Patricians cannot despise me, if they 
would, since their titles of nobility date from ances- 
tral services similar to those which I myself have 
rendered. And what if I can show no family statues? 
I can show the standards, the armour, and the 
spoils, which I myself have wrested from the van- 
quished. I can show the scars of many wounds re- 
ceived in combating the enemies of Rome. These are 
my statues ! These the honours I can boast of ! Not 
an accidental inheritance, like theirs; but earned by 
toil, by abstinence, by valour; amid clouds of dust, 
and seas of blood ; scenes of action, in which these 
effeminate Patricians, who would now depreciate me 
in your esteem, have never dared to appear, — no, not 
even as spectators ! Here, Romans, are my creden- 
tials ; here, my titles of nobility ; here, my claims to 
the generalship of your army. Tell me, are they not as 
respectable, are they not as valid, are they not as 
deserving of your confidence and reward, as those 
which any Patrician of them all can offer? 



Prose 285 

What a Great Nation Can Not Do. 

JOHN RUSKIN, 1819-1900. 

A GREAT nation does not spend its entire national 
wits for a couple of months in weighing evidence of a 
single ruffian's having done a single murder; and for 
a couple of years see its own children murder each 
other by their thousands or tens of thousands a day, 
considering only what the effect is likely to be on the 
price of cotton, and caring nowise to determine which 
side of battle is in the wrong. Neither does a great 
nation send its poor little boys to jail for stealing six 
walnuts ; and allow its bankrupts to steal their hun- 
dreds or thousands, and its bankers, rich with poor 
men's savings, to close their doors "under circumstances 
over which they have no control," with a "by your 
leave" ; and large landed estates to be bought by men 
who have made their money by going with armed 
steamers up and down the China Seas, selling opium 
at the cannon's mouth, and altering, for the benefit of 
the foreign nation, the common highwayman's de- 
mand of "your money or your life," into that of "your 
money and your life." Neither does a great nation 
allow the lives of its innocent poor to be parched out 
of them by fog fever, and rotted out of them by dung- 
hill plague, for the sake of sixpence a life extra per 
week to its landlords ; and then debate, with drivelling 
tears, and diabolical sympathies, whether it ought not 
piously to save, and nursingly cherish, the lives of its 
murderers. Also, a great nation having made up its 
mind that hanging is quite the wholesomest process for 
its homicides in general, can yet with mercy distinguish 
between the degrees of guilt in homicides ; and does 
not yelp like a pack of frost-pinched wolf-cubs on the 
blood-track of an unhappy crazed boy, or grey-haired 
clod-pate Othello, "perplexed i' the extreme," at the 
very moment that it is sending a Minister of the 



286 Prose 

Crown to make polite speeches to a man who is 
bayoneting young girls in their father's sight, and kill- 
ing noble youths in cool blood, faster than a country 
butcher kills lambs in spring. And, lastly, a great na- 
tion does not mock Heaven and its Powers, by pretend- 
ing belief in a revelation which asserts the love of 
money to be the root of all evil, and declaring, at the 
same time, that it is actuated, and intends to be 
actuated, in all chief national deeds and measures, by 
no other love. 

My friends, I do not know why any of us should 
talk about reading. We want some sharper discipline 
than that of reading; but, at all events, be assured, 
we cannot read. No reading is possible for a people 
with its mind in this state. No sentence of any great 
writer is intelligible to them. It is simply and sternly 
impossible for the English public at this moment, to 
understand any thoughtful writing, — so incapable of 
thought has it become in its insanity of avarice. 

The Fate of the Reformer. 

LORD BROUGHAM, 1778-1868. 

A subject for debate: "To reform a man, should you 'begin with 
his grandfather' or your own?" 

I HAVE heard it said that, when one lifts up his 
voice against things that are, and wishes for a change, 
he is raising a clamour against existing institutions, 
a clamour against our venerable establishments, a 
clamour against the law of the land, but this is no 
clamour against the one or the other, — it is a clamour 
against the abuse of them all. It is a clamour raised 
against the grievances that are felt. Mr. Burke, who 
was no friend to popular excitement, — who was no 
ready tool of agitation, no hot-headed enemy of ex- 
isting establishments, no under-valuer of the wisdom 
of our ancestors, no scoffer against institutions as they 
are, — has said, and it deserves to be fixed, in letters 



Prose 287 

of gold, over the hall of every assembly which calls 
itself a legislative body — "Where there is abuse, there 
ought to be clamour: because it is better to have our 
slumber broken by the fire-bell, than to perish, amidst 
the flames, in our bed." I have been told, by some 
who have little objection to the clamour, that I am 
a timid and a mock reformer; and by others, if I 
go on firmly and steadily, and do not allow myself 
to be driven aside by either one outcry or another, 
and care for neither, that it is a rash and dangerous 
innovation which I propound; and that I am taking, 
for the subject of my reckless experiments, things 
which are the objects of all men's veneration. I dis- 
regard the one as much as I disregard the other of 
these charges. 

'•False honour charms, and lying slander scares, 
Whom, but the false and faulty?" 

It has been the lot of all men, in all ages, who 
have aspired at the honour of guiding, instructing, 
or mending mankind, to have their paths beset by 
every persecution from adversaries, by every miscon- 
struction from friends ; no quarter from the one, — 
no charitable construction from the other! To be 
misconstrued, misrepresented, borne down, till it was 
in vain to bear down any longer, has been their fate. 
But truth will survive, and calumny has its day. I 
say that, if this be the fate of the reformer, — if he 
be the object of misrepresentation, — may not an in- 
ference be drawn favourable to myself? Taunted by 
the enemies of reform as being too rash, by the over- 
• zealous- friends of reform as being too slow or too 
cold, there is every reason for presuming that I have 
chosen the right course. A reformer must proceed 
steadily in his career; not misled, on the one hand, 
by panegyric, nor discouraged by slander, on the other. 
He wants no praise. I would rather say — "Woe to 
him when all men speak well of him!" I shall go on 



288 Prose 

in the course which I have laid down for myself; 
pursuing the foot-steps of those who have gone be- 
fore us, who have left us their instructions and suc- 
cess, — their instructions to guide our walk, and their 
success to cheer our spirits. 

Voyage of the "Mayflower." 

EDWARD EVERETT, 1794-1863. 

To that group of boys who used to like to make ships of clay and 
tease each other about the names. "Call her 'The Milk-Shake,' Tack, 
or 'The Chocolate Drop,' 'The Rose,' 'Mother Cary's Chicken.' ' 

May your boats never be derelicts. 

Methinks I see it now, that one solitary, adven- 
turous vessel, the Mayflower of a forlorn hope, 
freighted with the prospects of a future state, and 
bound across the unknown sea. I behold it pursuing, 
with a thousand misgivings, the uncertain, the tedious 
voyage. Suns rise and set, and weeks and months 
pass, and winter surprises them on the deep, but brings 
them not the sight of the wished-for shore. 

I see them now, scantily supplied with provisions, 
crowded almost to suffocation in their ill-stored prison, 
delayed by calms, pursuing a circuitous route; and 
now, driven in fury before the raging tempest, in their 
scarcely seaworthy vessel. The awful voice of the 
storm howls through the rigging. The labouring 
masts seem straining from their base; the dismal 
sound of the pumps is heard ; the ship leaps, as it 
were, madly from billow to billow ; the ocean breaks, 
and settles with ingulfing floods over the floating deck, 
and beats with deadening weight against the staggered 
vessel. 

I see them, escaped from these perils, pursuing their 
all but desperate undertaking, and landed at last, after 
a five months' passage, on the ice-clad rocks of 
Plymouth, — v/eak and exhausted from the voyage, 
poorly armed, scantily provisioned, without shelter, 
without means, surrounded by hostile tribes. 



Prose 289 

Shut now the volume of history, and tell me, on any 
principle of human probability, what shall be the fate 
of this handful of adventurers. Tell me, man of mili- 
tary science, in how many months were they all swept 
off by the thirty savage tribes enumerated within the 
boundaries of New England ? Tell me, politician, how 
long did this shadow of a colony, on which your con- 
ventions and treaties had not smiled, languish on the 
distant coast? Student of history, compare for me 
the baffled projects, the deserted settlements, the aban- 
doned adventures of other times, and find the paral- 
lel of this. 

Was it the winter's storm, beating upon the house- 
less heads of women and children? was it hard labour 
and spare meals ? was it disease ? was it the tomahawk ? 
was it the deep malady of a blighted hope, a ruined 
enterprise, and a broken heart, aching in its last mo- 
ments at the recollection of the loved and left beyond 
the sea? — was it some, or all of these united, that hur- 
ried this forsaken company to their melancholy fate? 
And is it possible that neither of these causes, that not 
all combined were able to blast this bud of hope? Is 
it possible that, from a beginning so feeble, so frail, 
so worthy not so much of admiration as of pity, there 
have gone forth a progress so steady, a growth so 
wonderful, a reality so important, a promise, yet to 
be fulfilled, so glorious? 

Rights of the Indians Defended. 

EDWARD EVERETT, 1794-1865. 

We do not want to forget how the Indians used to feel. This is a 
recitation supplementary to the study of the history of the settlements 
in New England. 

Think of the country for which the Indians fought ! 
Who can blame them? As Philip looked down from 
his seat on Mount Hope and beheld the lovely scene 
which spread beneath at a summer sunset, — the dis- 
tant hilltops blazing with gold, the slanting beams 



290 Prose 

streaming along the waters, the broad plains, the island 
groups, the majestic forest, — could he be blamed, if his 
heart burned within him, as he beheld it all passing, by 
no tardy process, from beneath his control into the 
hands of the stranger? As the river chieftains — the 
lords of the water- falls and the mountains — ranged this 
lovely valley, can it be wondered at, if they beheld 
with bitterness the forest disappearing beneath the 
settler's axe — the fishing-place disturbed by his saw- 
mills? Can we not fancy the feelings with which 
some strong-minded savage, in company with a 
friendly settler, contemplating the progress already 
made by the white man, and marking the gigantic 
strides with which he was advancing into the wilder- 
ness, would fold his arms and say, "White man, there 
is eternal war between me and thee! I quit not the 
land of my fathers, but with my life. In those woods, 
where I bent my youthful bow, I will still hunt the 
deer ; over yonder waters I will still glide unrestrained 
in my bark canoe. By those dashing water- falls I 
will still lay up my winter's store of food; on these 
fertile meadows I will still plant my corn. Stranger, 
the land is mine. I understand not these paper rights. 
I gave not my consent, when, as thou sayest, these 
broad regions were purchased for a few baubles, of 
my fathers. They could sell what was theirs; they 
could sell no more. How could my father sell that 
which the Great Spirit sent me into the world to live 
upon? They knew not what they did. The stranger 
came, a timid suppliant, and asked to lie down on the 
red man's bear-skin, and warm himself at the red 
man's fire, and have a little piece of land, to raise 
corn for his women and children; and now he is be- 
come strong, and mighty, and bold and spreads out 
his parchment over the whole, and says, Tt is mine.' 
Stranger, there is not room for us both. There is 
poison in the white man's cup; the white man's dog 
barks at the red man's heels. If I should leave the 



Prose 291 

land of my fathers, whither shall I fly? Shall I go 
to the South, and dwell among the graves of the 
Pequots? Shall I wander to the West — the fierce 
Mohawk — the man-eater — is my foe. Shall I fly to 
the East, — the great water is before me. No, Stranger ; 
here I have lived, and here will I die; and if here 
thou abidest there is eternal war between me and thee. 
"Thou hast taught me thy arts of destruction; for 
that alone I thank thee; and now take heed to thy 
steps; the red man is thy foe. When thou goest 
forth by day, my bullet shall whistle by thee; when 
thou liest down at night, my knife is at thy throat. 
The noonday sun shall not discover thy enemy, and 
the darkness of midnight shall not protect thy rest. 
Thou shalt plant in terror, and I will reap in blood; 
thou shalt sow the earth with corn, and I will strew 
it with ashes ; thou shalt go forth with the sickle, and 
I will follow after with the scalping-knife; thou shalt 
build and I will burn, — till the white man or the In- 
dian shall cease from the land. Go thy way for this 
time in safety; but remember, Stranger, there is 
eternal war between me and thee!" 



On Conciliation with America. 

EDMUND BURKE, 1730-1797. 

For that service, for all service, whether of revenue, 
trade or empire, my trust is in her interest in the 
British Constitution. My hold of the colonies is in 
the close affection which grows from common names, 
from kindred blood, from similar privileges, and equal 
protection. 

These are ties, which, though light as air, are as 
strong as links of iron. 

Let the colonies always keep the idea of their civil 
rights associated with your government; they will 
cling and grapple to you, and no force under heaven 
will be of power to tear them from their allegiance. 



292 Prose 

But let it once be understood, that your government 
may be one thing, and their privileges another; that 
these two things may exist without any mutual rela- 
tion : the cement is gone, the cohesion is loosened ; and 
everything hastens to decay and dissolution. 

As long as you have the wisdom to keep the. sov- 
ereign authority of this country as the sanctuary of 
liberty, the sacred temple consecrated to our common 
faith, wherever the chosen race and sons of England 
worship freedom, they will turn their faces towards 
you. 

The more they multiply, the more friends you will 
have. The more ardently they love liberty, the more 
perfect will be their obedience. 

Slavery they can have anyv/here. It is a weed that 
grows in every soil. 

They may have it from Spain, they may have it 
from Prussia. But, until you become lost to all feel- 
ing of your true interests and your national dignity, 
freedom they can have from none but you. 

This is the commodity of price, of which you have 
the monopoly. This is the true Act of Navigation, 
which binds to you the commerce of the Colonies, and 
through them secures to you the wealth of the world. 

Deny them this participation of freedom, and you 
break that sole bond, which originally made, and must 
still preserve the unity of the empire. 

Do not entertain so weak an imagination, as that 
your registers and your bonds, your affidavits and suf- 
ferances, your cockets and your clearances, are what 
form the great securities of your commerce. 

Do not dream that your letters of office, and your 
instructions, and your suspending clauses, are the 
things that hold together the great contexture of this 
mysterious whole. These things do not make your 
government, dead instruments, passive tools as they 
are; it is the spirit of the English constitution that 
gives all their life and efficacy to them. 



Prose 293 

It is the spirit of the Enghsh constitution, which, 
infused through the mighty mass, pervades, feeds, 
unites, invigorates, vivifies, every part of the empire, 
even down to the minutest member. 

Is it not the same virtue which does everything 
for us here in England? 

Do you imagine then, that it is the land tax which 
raises your revenue? 

That it is the annual vote in the committee of sup- 
ply, which gives you your army? or that it is the 
mutiny bill which inspires it with bravery and dis- 
cipline ? No ! surely no ! It is the love of the people 
— ^^it is their attachment to their government from the 
sense of the deep stake they have in such a glorious 
institution, which gives you your army and your navy, 
and infuses into both that liberal obedience, without 
which your army would be a base rabble, and your 
navy nothing but rotten timber. 

All this, I know well enough, will sound wild and 
chimerical to the profane herd of those vulgar and 
mechanical politicians, who have no place among us ; 
a sort of people who think that nothing exists but 
what is gross and material ; and who therefore, far 
from being qualified to be directors of the great move- 
ment of empire, are not fit to turn a wheel in the 
machine. 

But to men truly initiated and rightly taught, these 
ruling and master principles, which, in the opinion 
of such men as I have mentioned, have no substantial 
existence, are in truth everything, and all in all. 
Magnanimity in politics is not seldom the truest wis- 
dom; and a great empire and little minds go ill 
together. 

If we are conscious of our situation, and glow with 
zeal to fill our place as becomes our station and our- 
selves, we ought to auspicate all our public proceed- 
ings on America, with the old warning of the church, 
Sursum corda ! We ought to elevate our minds to the 



294 Prose 

greatness of that trust to which the order of Provi- 
dence has called us. By adverting to the dignity of 
this high calling, our ancestors have turned a savage 
wilderness into a glorious empire; and have made the 
most extensive, and the only honourable conquests ; not 
by destroying, but by promoting, the wealth, the num- 
ber, the happiness, of the human race. 

Let us get an American revenue as we have got 
an American empire. 

English privileges have made it all that it is; Eng- 
lish privileges alone will make it all that it can be. 

The American War Denounced. 

WILLIAM PITT (THE SECOND), 1759-1806. 

Gentlemen have passed the highest eulogiums on 
the American war. Its justice has been defended in 
the most fervent manner. A noble Lord, in the heat 
of his zeal, has called it a Holy War. For my part, 
although the honourable Gentleman who made this 
motion, and some other Gentlemen, have been more 
than once, in the course of the debate, severely repre- 
hended for calling it a wicked and accursed war, I 
am persuaded, and would affirm, that it was a most 
accursed, wicked, barbarous, cruel, unnatural, unjust 
and diabolical war! It was conceived in injustice; 
it was nurtured and brought forth in folly; its foot- 
steps were marked with blood, slaughter, persecution 
and devastation; — in truth, everything which went to 
constitute moral depravity and human turpitude were 
to be found in it. It was pregnant with misery of 
every kind. 

The mischief, however, recoiled on the unhappy 
People of this country, who were made the instru- 
ments by which the wicked purposes of the authors of 
the war were effected. The Nation was drained of 
its best blood, and of its vital resources of men and 
money. The expense of the war was enormous, — 



Prose 295 

much beyond any former experience. And yet, what 
has the British Nation received in return? Nothing 
but a series of ineffective victories, or severe defeats ; 
— victories celebrated only by a temporary triumph 
over our brethren, whom we would trample down and 
destroy ; victories, which filled the land with mourning 
for the loss of dear and valued relatives, slain in the 
impious cause of enforcing unconstitutional submis- 
sion, or with narratives of the glorious exertions of 
men struggling in the holy cause of liberty, though 
struggling in the absence of all the facilities and ad- 
vantages which are in general deemed the necessary 
concomitants of victory and success. Where was the 
Englishman, who, on reading the narratives of those 
bloody and well-fought contests, could refrain from 
lamenting the loss of so much British blood spilt in 
such a cause; or from weeping, on whatever side vic- 
tory might be declared? 

National Gratitude. 

HENRY GRATTAN, 1746-1820. 

I SHALL hear of ingratitude. I name the argument 
to despise it, and the men who make use of it. I 
know the men who use it are not grateful : they are 
insatiate; they are public extortioners, who would 
stop the tide of public prosperity, and turn it to the 
channel of their own emolument. I know of no species 
of gratitude which should prevent my country from 
being free; no gratitude which should oblige Ireland 
to be the slave of England. In cases of robbery and 
usurpation, nothing is an object of gratitude except 
the thing stolen, the charter spoliated. A Nation's 
liberty cannot, like her treasure, be meted and par- 
celled out in gratitude. No man can be grateful or 
liberal of his conscience, nor woman of her honour, 
nor Nation of her liberty. There are certain unim- 
partable, inherent, invaluable properties not to be 



296 Prose 

alienated from the person, whether body politic or 
body natural. With the same contempt do I treat that 
charge which says that Ireland is insatiable ; saying 
that Ireland asks nothing but that which Great Britain 
has robbed her of, — her rights and privileges. To say 
that Ireland will not be satisfied with liberty, because 
she is not satisfied with slavery, is folly. I laugh at 
that man who supposes that Ireland will not be con- 
tent with a free trade and a free Constitution, and 
would any man advise her to be content with less? 

The South During the Revolution. 

ROBERT Y. HAYNE, 1791-1839- 

What, Sir, was the conduct of the South during 
the Revolution? Sir, I honour New England for her 
conduct in that glorious struggle. But, great as is 
the praise which belongs to her, I think at least equal 
honour is due to the South. They espoused the quar- 
rel of their brethren, with a generous zeal, which did 
not suffer them to stop to calculate their interest in 
the dispute. Favourites of the mother country, pos- 
sessed of neither ships nor seamen to create a com- 
mercial rivalship, they might have found in their sit- 
uation a guarantee that their trade would be forever 
fostered and protected by Great Britain. But, tram- 
pling on all considerations either of interest or of 
safety they rushed into the conflict, and, fighting for 
principle, perilled all, in the sacred cause of freedom. 
Never were there exhibited, in the history of the world, 
higher examples of noble daring, dreadful suffering, 
and heroic endurance, than by the Whigs of Carolina, 
during the Revolution. The whole State, from the 
mountains to the sea, was overrun by an overwhelm- 
ing force of enemy. The fruits of industry perished 
on the spot where they were produced, or were con- 
sumed by the foe. The "plains of Carolina" drank 
up the most precious blood of her citizens. Black and 



Prose 297 

smoking ruins marked the places which had been the 
habitations of her children ! Driven from their homes, 
into the gloomy and almost impenetrable swamps, even 
there the spirit of liberty survived; and South Caro- 
lina, sustained by the example of her Sumpters and 
her Marions, proved, by her conduct, that though her 
soil might be overrun, the spirit of her People was in- 
vincible. 

Peaceable Secession. 

DANIEL WEBSTER, 1782-1852. 
\ "We hang together or we hang apart." 

Sir, he who sees these States now revolving in har- 
mony around a common centre, and expects to see 
them quit their places and fly off without convulsion, 
may look the next hour to see the heavenly bodies 
rush from their spheres and jostle against each other 
in the realms of space, without causing the crush of 
the universe. There can be no such thing as a peace- 
able secession. Peaceable secession is an utter im- 
possibility. Is the great Constitution under which we 
live, covering this whole country, is it to be thawed 
and melted away by secession, as the snows on the 
mountain melt under the influence of a vernal sun, 
disappear almost unobserved, and run off ? No, Sir ! 
No, Sir! I will not state what might produce the dis- 
ruption of the Union; but. Sir, I see, as plainly as I 
see the sun in Heaven, what that disruption itself must 
produce; I see that it must produce war, and such 
a war as I will not describe, in its two-fold character. 

Peaceable secession! — peaceable secession! The 
concurrent agreement of all the members of this great 
Republic to separate ! A voluntary separation, with 
alimony on one side and on the other. Why, what 
would be the result? Where is the line to be drawn? 
What States are to secede ? What is to remain Ameri- 
can? What am I to be? An American no longer? 



298 Prose 

Am I to become a sectional man, a local man, a sepa- 
ratist, with no' country in common with the gentlemen 
who sit around me here, or who fill the other House 
of Congress? 

Heaven forbid! Where is the flag of the Repub- 
lic to remain? Where is the eagle still to tower? — 
or is he to cower, and shrink and fall to the ground? 
Why, Sir, our ancestors — our fathers and our grand- 
fathers, those of them that are yet living amongst us, 
with prolonged lives — would rebuke and reproach us ; 
and our children and our grandchildren would cry out 
shame upon us, if we, of this generation, should dis- 
honour these ensigns of the power of the Government 
and the harmony of that Union, which is every day 
felt among us with so much joy and gratitude. What 
is to become of the army? What is to become of the 
navy? What is to become of the public lands? How 
is any one of the thirty States to defend itself? 

Sir, we could not sit down here to-day and draw a 
line of separation that would satisfy any five men in 
the country. There are natural causes that would 
keep and tie us together ; and there are social and do- 
mestic relations which we could not break if we would, 
and which we should not if we could. 

Against the Force Bill. 

JOHN C. CALHOUN, 1782-1850. 

It is said that the bill ought to pass, because the 
law must be enforced. The law must be enforced! 
The imperial edict must be executed! It is under such 
sophistry, couched in general terms, without looking 
to the limitations which must ever exist in the practi- 
cal exercise of power, that the most cruel and despotic 
acts ever have been covered. It was such sophistry 
as this that cast Daniel into the lions' den, and the 
three Innocents into the fiery furnace. Under the 
same sophistry the bloody edicts of Nero and Caligula 



Prose 299 

were executed. The law must he enforced! Yes, the 
act imposing the tea-tax ''must be executed." This 
was the very argument which impelled Lord North 
and his administration in that mad career which for- 
ever separated us from the British Crown. Under a 
similar sophistry, "that religion must be protected," 
how many massacres have been perpetrated, and how 
many martyrs have been tied to the stake! What! 
acting on this vague abstraction, are you prepared to 
enforce a law, without considering whether it be just 
or unjust, constitutional or unconstitutional ? Will you 
collect money when it is acknowledged that it is not 
wanted? He who earns the money, who digs it from 
the earth with the sweat of his brow, has a just title 
to it, against the universe. No one has a right to touch 
it without his consent, except his government, and that 
only to the extent of its legitimate wants; — to take 
more is robbery. 

American Labourers. 

C. C. NAYLOR. 

The Gentleman, Sir, has misconceived the spirit and 
tendency of Northern institutions. He is ignorant of 
Northern character. He has forgotten the history of 
his country. Preach insurrection to the Northern 
labourers! Who are the Northern labourers? The 
history of your country is their history. The renown 
of your country is their renown. The brightness of 
their doings is emblazoned on its every page. Blot 
from your annals the words, and the doings of North- 
ern labourers, and the history of your country presents 
but a universal blank. Sir, who was he that disarmed 
the Thunderer; wrested from his grasp the bolts of 
Jove; calmed the troubled ocean; became the central 
sun of the philosophical system of his age, shedding 
his brightness and effulgence on the whole civilised 
world; whom the great and mighty of the earth de- 



300 Prose 

lighted to honour ; who participated in the achievement 
of your independence, prominently assisted in mould- 
ing your free institutions, and the beneficial effects 
of whose wisdom will be felt to the last moment of 
"recorded time!" Who, Sir, I ask, was he? A North- 
ern labourer, — a Yankee tallow-chandler's son, — a 
printer's runaway son ! 

And who, let me ask the honourable Gentleman, who 
was he that, in the days of our Revolution, led forth 
a Northern army, — yes, an army of Northern labour- 
ers, — and aided the chivalry of South Carolina in 
their defence against British aggression, drove the 
spoilers from their firesides, and redeemed her fair 
fields from foreign invaders? Who was he? A 
Northern labourer, a Rhode Island blacksmith, — the 
gallant General Greene, — who left his hammer and his 
forge, and went forth conquering and to conquer in 
the battle for our independence ! And will you preach 
insurrection to men like these? 

Sir, our country is full of the achievements of 
Northern labourers ! Where are Concord, and Lexing- 
ton, and Princeton, and Trenton, and Saratoga, and 
Bunker Hill, but in the North? And what. Sir, has 
shed an imperishable renown on the never-dying names 
of those hallowed spots, but the blood and the strug- 
gles, the high daring and patriotism, and sublime cour- 
age, of Northern labourers? The whole North is an 
everlasting monument of the freedom, virtue, intelli- 
gence, and indomitable independence, of Northern 
labourers ! Go, Sir, go preach insurrection to men like 
these ! 

The Free Mind. 

WILLIAM ELLERY CHANNING, 1 780-1842. 

I CALL that mind free, which masters the senses, 
which protects itself against the animal appetites, 
which penetrates beneath the body and recognises its 
own reality and greatness. I call that mind free, which 



Prose 301 

escapes the bondage of matter ; which, instead of stop- 
ping at the material universe and making it a prison 
wall, passes beyond it to its Author, and finds, in the 
radiant signatures which that universe everywhere 
bears of the infinite Spirit, helps to its own spiritual 
enlargement. 

I call that mind free, which sets no bounds to its 
love, which recognises in all human beings the image 
of God and the rights of his children, which delights 
in virtue and sympathises with suffering wherever 
they are seen, which conquers pride, anger, and sloth, 
and offers itself up a willing victim to the cause of 
mankind. 

I call that mind free, which is not passively framed 
by outward circumstances, which is not swept away 
by the torrent of events, which is not the creature of 
accidental impulse, but which bends events to its own 
improvement, and acts from an inward spring, from 
immutable principles which it has deliberately 
espoused. 

I call that mind free, which protects itself against 
the usurpations of society, which does not cower to 
human opinion, which feels itself accountable to a 
higher tribunal than man's, which respects a higher law 
than fashion, which reverences itself too much to be 
the slave or tool of the many or the few. 

Judges Should be Free. 

JAMES A. BAYARD, 1767-1815. 

The principles involved in this speech are just as true in all depart- 
ments of life. Every man is a judge. Let him be so placed that he is 
dependent for existence on any power and he must be a strong man if 
he does not toady to that power. It is true in our hospitals where 
doctors are turned out when politics change. True of teachers who are 
liable to lose positions. True in private schools that are dependent on 
rich pupils. Only the man who dares face poverty can say that his soul 
is his own. 

Let it be remembered that no power is so sensibly 
felt by society as that of the Judiciary. The life and 
property of every man is liable to be in the hands of 



302 Prose 

the Judges. Is it not our great interest to place our 
Judges upon such high ground that no fear can intimi- 
date, no hope seduce them? The present measure 
humbles them in the dust. It prostrates them at the 
feet of faction. It renders them the tool of every 
dominant party. It is this effect which I deprecate. 
It is this consequence which I deeply deplore. What 
does reason, what does argument avail, when party 
spirit presides? Subject your Bench to the influence 
of this spirit, and justice bids a final adieu to your 
tribunals. We are asked. Sir, if the Judges are to be 
independent of the People? The question presents a 
false and delusive view. We are all the People. We 
are, and as long as we enjoy our freedom we shall 
be, divided into parties. The true question is, Shall 
the Judiciary be permanent, or fluctuate with the tide 
of public opinion? I beg, I implore the gentlemen to 
consider the magnitude and value of the principle 
which they are about to annihilate. If your Judges are 
independent of political changes, they may have their 
preferences, but they will not enter into the spirit of 
party. But, let their existence depend upon the sup- 
port of a certain set of men, and they cannot be im- 
partial. Justice will be trodden under foot. Your 
courts will lose all public confidence and respect. 
Prostrate your Judges at the feet of party, and you 
break down the mounds which defend you from 
revolutionary torrent. 



PART VI. 

"Gentlemen, let us come at the pith of 

this debate/' 

Victor Hugo 



PART VI 

Sonny's Diploma. 

(Copyright, 1896, by The Century Company.) 

RUTH McENERY STUART. SELECTED AND ABRIDGED FROM 
*;SONNY." 

"If my little knowledge isn't your little knowledge then YOU don't 
know anything." Here's another Dolorous-Stroke to examinations. 
This question is for debates in Normal Training Classes. 

Yas, sir; this is it. This here's Sonny's diplomy 
thet you've heerd so much about — sheepskin they call 
it, though it aint no mo' sheepskin 'n what I am. I've 
skinned too many not to know. Thess to think o' little 
Sonny bein' a grad'jate — an' all by his own efforts, 
too! It is a plain-lookin' picture, ez you say, to be 
framed up in sech a fine gilt frame; but it's worth it, 
an' I don't begrudge it to him. He picked out that red 
plush hisself. He's got mighty fine taste for a coun- 
try-raised child, Sonny has. 

Seem like the oftener I come here an' stan' before 
it, the prouder I feel, an' the mo' I can't reelise thet 
he done it. 

I'd 'a' been proud enough to 've had him go through 
the reg'lar co'se o' study, an' be awarded this diplomy, 
but to've seen 'im thess walk in an' demand it, the 
way he done, an' to prove his right in a fair fight — 
why, it tickles me so thet I thess seem to git a spell 
o' the giggles ev'y time I think about it. 

Sir ? How did he do it ? Why, I thought eve'ybody 
in the State of Arkansas knowed how Sonny walked 
over the boa'd o' school directors, an' took a diplomy 
in the face of Providence, at the last anniversary. 

305 



3o6 Prose 

Of co'se eve'ybody in the county goes to the gradj- 
'atin', an' we was all three settin' there watchin' the 
performances, not thinkin' of any special excitement, 
when Sonny took this idee. 

It seems thet seein' all the other boys gradj'ate put 
him in the notion, an' he felt like ez ef he ought to be 
a-gradj'atin', too. 

Well, sir, it was thess like I'm a-tellin' you. He 
set still ez long ez he could, an' then he riz an' spoke. 
Says he, "I have decided thet I'd like to do a little 
gradj'atin this evenin' myself," thess, that a-way. 

An' when he spoke them words, for about a minute 
you could 'd heerd a pin drop ; an' then eve'ybody be- 
gin a-screechin' with laughter. A person would think 
thet they'd 'a' had some consideration for a child 
standin' up in the midst o' sech a getherin', tryin' to 
take his own part ; but they didn't. They thess laughed 
immod'rate. But they didn't faze him. He had took 
his station on the flo', an' he belt his ground. 

Thess ez soon ez he could git a heerin', why, he 
says, says he: "I don't want anybody to think thet 
I'm a-tryin' to take any advantage. I don't expec' 
to gradj'ate without passin' my examination. An', mo' 
'n that," says he, "I am ready to pass it now." An* 
then he went on to explain thet he would like to have 
anybody present thet zvas competent to do it to step 
forward an' examine him — then an' there. An' he 
said thet ef he was examined fair and square to the 
satisfaction of eve'ybody — an' didn't pass — why, he'd 
give up the p'int. An' he wanted to be examined oral 
— in eve'ybody's hearin' — free-handed an' outspoke. 

Well, sir, seem like folks begin to see a little fun 
ahead in lettin' him try it — which I don't see thess how 
they could 'a' hindered him, an' it a free school, an' me 
a taxpayer. But they all seemed to be in a pretty good 
humour by this time, an' when Sonny put it to vote, 
why they voted unanymous to let him try it. 

Well, when they had done votin', Sonny, after first 



Prose 307 

thankin' 'em, — which I think was a mighty poHte thing 
to do, an' they full o' the giggles at his little expense 
that minute, — why, he went on to say thet he requie'd 
'em to make thess one condition, an' that was thet any 
question he missed was to be passed on to them thet 
had been a-gradj'atin' so fast, an' ef they missed it, 
it wasn't to be counted ag'inst him. 

Of co'se they couldn't give Sonny the same questions 
thet had been give' out, because he had heerd the an- 
swers, an' it would n't 'a' been fair. So Sonny he told 
'em to thess set down, an' make out a list of ques- 
tions thet they'd all agree was about of a' equal hard- 
ness to them thet had been ast, an' was of thess the 
kind of learnin' thet all the regular gradj'ates's minds 
was sto'ed with, an' thet either he knowed 'em or he 
didn't — one. 

Oh, yes ; he's got the best libr'y in the county, 'cep'n*, 
of co'se, the doctor's 'n' the preacher's — everybody 
round about here knows about that. He's got about a 
hund'ed books an' over. Well, sir, when he made that 
remark, thet any question thet he missed was to be 
give to the class, why, the whole atmosp'ere took on 
a change o' temp'ature. Even the teacher was for 
backin' out o' the whole business square ; but he didn't 
thess seem to dare to say so. 

Eve'ybody there had saw him step over an' whis- 
per to Brother Binney when it was decided to give 
Sonny a chance, an' they knowed thet he had asked 
him to examine him. But now, instid o' callin' on 
Brother Binney, why, he thess said, says he : "I sup- 
pose I ought not to shirk this duty. Ef it's to be did," 
says he, "I reckon I ought to do it — an' do it I will." 
You see, he daresn't allow Brother Binney to put 
questions, for fear he'd call out some thet his smarty 
grad'jates couldn't answer. 

So he thess claired his th'oat, an' set down a minute 
to consider. An' then he riz from his seat, an' re- 
marked, with a heap o' hems and haws, thet of co'se 



3o8 Prose 

everybody knowed thet Sonny Jones had had unusual 
advantages in some respec's, but thet it was one thing 
for a boy to spend his time a-picnickin' in the woods, 
getherin' all sorts of natural curiosities, but it was 
quite another to be a scholar accordin' to books, so's 
to be able to pass sech a' examination ez would be a 
credit to a State institution o' learnin', sech ez the one 
over which he was proud to preside. That word struck 
me partic'lar, ''proud to preside," which, in all this, 
of co'se, I see he was castin' a slur on Sonny's collec- 
tions of birds' eggs, an' his wild flowers, an' wood 
specimens, an' min'rals. 

Well, sir, it took that school-teacher about a half- 
hour to pick out the first question, an' he didn't pick it 
out then. He'd stop, an' he'd look at the book, an' 
then he'd look at Sonny, an' then he'd look at the 
class, — an' then he'd turn a page, like ez ef he couldn't 
make up his mind, an' was afeerd to resk it, less'n it 
might be missed, an' be referred back to the class. 
I never did see a man so over-wrought over a little 
thing in my life — never. They do say, though, that 
school-teachers feels mighty bad when their scholars 
misses any p'int in public. 

Well, sir, he took so long that d'reckly everybody 
begin to git wo'e out, an' at last Sonny, why, he got 
tired, too, an' he up an' says, says he, "Ef you can't 
make up your mind what to ask me, teacher, why'n't 
you let me ask myself questions? An' ef my ques- 
tions seem too easy, why, I'll put 'em to the class." 

Well, sir, that's the way this diplomy was earned — 
by a good, hard struggle, in open daylight, by unany- 
mous vote of all concerned — an' unconcerned. An' my 
opinion is thet if they are those who have any private 
opinions about it, an' they didn't express 'em that day, 
why they ain't got no right to do it underhanded. 



Prose 309 



On Rising with the Lark. 

CHARLES LAMB, 1775-1834. 

For the little boy who rises at four in the morning and is sleepy all 
day. Beware of "The Early Bird." 

At what precise minute that Httle airy musician 
doffs his night-gear, and prepares to tune up his un- 
seasonable matins, we are not naturaHst enough to 
determine. But, for a mere human gentleman — that 
has no orchestra business to call him from his warm 
bed to such preposterous exercises — ^we take ten or 
half after ten (eleven, of course, during this Christ- 
mas solstice) to be the earliest hour at which he can 
begin to think of abandoning his pillow. To think of 
it, we say, for to do it in earnest requires another 
half-hour's good consideration. 

Not but there are pretty sun-risings, as we are told, 
and such like gauds, abroad in the world, in summer 
time especially, some hours before what we have as- 
signed ; which a gentleman may see, as they say, only 
for getting up. But, having been tempted once or 
twice, in earlier life, to assist at those ceremonies, we 
confess our curiosity abated. We are no longer am- 
bitious of being the sun's courtiers, to attend at his 
morning levees. We hold the good hours of the dawn 
too sacred to waste them upon such observances, which 
have in them, besides, something Pagan and Persic. 
To say truth, we never anticipated our usual hour, or 
got up with the sun (as it is called) to go a journey, 
or upon a foolish whole day's pleasuring, but we suf- 
fered for it all the long hours after in listlessness and 
headaches! nature herself sufficiently declaring her 
sense of our presumption in aspiring to regulate our 
frail waking courses by the measures of that celestial 
and sleepless traveller. 



310 Prose 

Creative Education. 

(Copyrighted by Charles Scribner's Sons.) 

HENRY VAN DYKE. FROM "ESSAYS IN APPLICATION." 

This selection finds a place here because I hear so frequently strenuous 
arguments between boys and their parents on the subject of going to 
college. Every boy of sixteen wants to go to sea or into business or to 
become an artist or do anything to escape the harness of school life. 
He wants the chance to "begin life." Don't make a bugbear of college, 
my young friend. In life, you will need the logic and the ethics it 
teaches and the oratory. 

The trade schools! They are really worth all the 
money that is put into them. But the error lies in sup- 
posing that they can take the place of the broader and 
higher education. By their own confession they move 
on another level. They mean business. Business is 
precisely the one thing which education does not 
mean. . . . 

But the education of perceptive power cannot be 
carried on exclusively in the study and the class-room. 
Every meadow and every woodland is a college, and 
every city square is full of teachers. Do you know 
how the stream flows, how the kingfisher poises 
above it, how the trout swims in it, how the ferns un- 
curl along its banks? Do you know how the human 
body balances itself, and along what lines and curves 
it moves in walking, in running, in dancing? . . . 

Do you know the tones and accents of human speech, 
the songs of the birds, the voices of the forests and 
the sea? If not, you need culture to make you a sen- 
sitive possessor of the beauty of the world. 

Every true university should make room in its 
scheme for life out-of-doors. There is much to be 
said for John Milton's plan of a school whose pupils 
should go together each year on long horseback jour- 
neys and sailing cruises in order to see the world. . . . 
John Burroughs has a college on a little farm beside 
the Hudson; and John Muir has a university called 
Yosemite. If such men cross a field or thicket they see 



Prose 3 i i 

more than the seven wonders of the world. That is 
culture. And without it all scholastic learning is arid, 
and all the academic degrees known to man are but 
china oranges hung on a dry tree. 

Conscious Activity. 

FRIEDRICH FROEBEL, 1782-1852, 
For debate in Normal Training Classes. 

It is the destiny and life work of all things to un- 
fold their essence, to reveal God in their external 
being. 

' By education the divine essence of man, his spirit- 
ual nature should be unfolded, brought out, lifted into 
consciousness, and man himself raised into free, con- 
scious obedience to the divine principle that lives in 
him, and to an independent representation of this prin- 
ciple in his life. 

Education should lead man to see and know the 
divine, spiritual, and eternal principle which animates 
nature, and is permanently manifested in nature. Only 
spiritual striving, living perfection is to be held fast 
as an ideal. 

The highest eternally perfect life would have each 
human being develop from within. Self -Active and 
free. 

The child should, from the very time of his birth, 
be given the all-sided use of his powers. 

The child should not be partly chained, fettered nor 
swathed ; nor, later on, spoiled by too much assistance. 

God created man in his own image; therefore man 
should create and bring forth like God. The spirit 
of man should hover over the shapeless, and move it 
that it may take shape and form, a distinct being and 
life of its own. This is the high meaning of creative 
activity. We become godlike in diligence and indus- 
try, in working and doing ; we give body to spirit and 
form to thought. 



312 Prose 

Men Always Fit for Freedom. 

T. B. MACAULAY, 1800-1859. 

There is only one cure for the evils which newly 
acquired freedom produces — and that cure is freedom ! 
When a prisoner leaves his cell, he cannot bear the 
light of day; he is unable to discriminate colours, or 
recognise faces. But the remedy is not to remand him 
into his dungeon, but to accustom him to the rays of 
the sun. The blaze of truth and liberty may at first 
dazzle and bewilder nations which have become half 
blind in the house of bondage. But let them gaze 
on, and they will soon be able to bear it. In a few 
years men learn to reason. The extreme violence of 
opinion subsides. Hostile theories correct each other. 
The scattered elements of truth cease to conflict, and 
begin to coalesce. And at length a system of justice 
and order is educed out of the chaos. 

Many politicians of our time are in the habit of lay- 
ing it down as a self-evident proposition, that no peo- 
ple ought to be free, till they are fit to use their 
freedom. The maxim is worthy of the fool in the 
old story, who resolved not to go into the water till 
he had learned to swim! If men are to wait for lib- 
erty until they become wise and good in slavery, they 
may indeed wait forever. 

The Rights of Childhood. 

From The Taylor-Trotwood Magazine. 
JOHN TROTWOOD MOORE. 

The Child-Labor question should be handled by the Legislature. — 
Catherine Markham. 

Ladies and Gentlemen, I thank you for the priv- 
ilege of addressing you on this subject, so full of great 
and far-reaching interest. 

In the beginning permit me to say to you that I, 
myself, have been a teacher, and that I consider it 



Prose 3^3 

the grandest profession of all those which make for 
the uplifting of the human race, save perhaps, one. 

In my younger days, when the Alabama law re- 
quired that a teacher should teach hygiene and physi- 
ology along with other studies— the object being to 
show the effects of alcohol on the human body— there 
came to my school a big, double- jointed ploughboy, 
whose opportunities for education had been few, but 
he was of that stuff from which many of the great 
men of the republic have been made. After six 
months of grammar and hygiene, when the class was 
required to write a composition on the human anatomy, 
this is the marvellous work of art handed to me by 
the man of the plough: 

"The human anatermy is devided into three parts, 
the Head, the Chist, and the Stummic. The Head con- 
tains the brains, if -any. The Chist contains the lights 
and the liver. The Stummic contains the bowels. 
There are five bowels, a, e, i, o, u, and sometimes w 
and y." 

Have I not been a teacher, my friends ? 

The rights of childhood, is the subject you have 
given me, Mr. Chairman. You know, and I know, 
and all within the sound of my voice know, what the 
rights of childhood are— the right to an education, to 
health, to play, to work in proportion to its age and 
strength, to a fair chance and a square deal in this 
greatest country of the world's greatest age. We 
know, I say, what are the rights of a child. The ques- 
tion I wish to put to you is, are they getting those 
rights ? 

I journeyed last spring to New Orleans just to see 
the plain upon which Tennesseeans stood and fought to 
a finish the bullies of beef-eating England and secured 
by their victory to our nation the Louisiana Purchase 
and a century of foreign peace, which the memory of 
that battle strengthens yet in the minds of their chil- 



314 Prose 

dren. The old ditch was a swamp of water lilies ; the 
breastworks had gone back to the plain ; but the great 
Mississippi flowed on to the sea, unhampered by 
Spaniard or Briton, the great artery of a boundless, 
unbroken and undivided country. And I stood upon 
a soil made American by the blood of Tennesseeans ; 
I looked up at a sky purple, blue and beautiful, thrown 
over the landscape by the God of our fathers, even as 
a king of old would throw his royal purple over the 
masterpieces of the great master. And on the sky and 
on the land and on the bosom of the mighty river I 
read : Jackson — Jackson — Jackson! 

As I stood there the fighting spirit of my Irish sires 
came back to me as I saw the ghosts of those long- 
haired Tennesseeans standing behind that bloody ditch 
fighting for the country which God had ordained 
should belong to them and the oppressed of the world. 
The hot blood surged in my cheek as I thought of the 
60,000 little white children of the South and the 
2,000,000 in the cotton mills and factories and mines 
and sweatshops of the nation, robbed of their rights 
of childhood by the greed of gold, the graft of poli- 
ticians and the low ignorance and lazy debasement of 
their own parents, stealing from them not only the 
rights to an education, but even the right to life ! And 
as the blood surged in my head, beating drumbeats 
in my brain and marshalling in the fine frenzy of pro- 
phetic visions the grey host that stood shoulder to 
shoulder there, I saw again that sallow-faced leader, 
with the form of a battle spear and the eyes of a 
god, riding up and down the long lines — bloody and 
brave — and forever settling with the invaders the issue 
they had postponed, but not abandoned, at Yorktown. 
And, seeing him, I saw again that pitiful picture in 
the Waxhaw Settlement — the Irish immigrant mother, 
her husband but a week ago buried in a poor white's 
grave, two babes at her knees and this one at her 
breast, with no money and no home and no bread for 



Prose 315 

their mouths, and I said : "Thank God, there were no 
cotton mills in South Carolina then, or Andrew Jack- 
son would have died there, before he was grown, — in 
the lint and the dust and the grind of them, robbed 
of his childhood and of his chance in life!" 

For he also was a poor white, just the grist for a 
nice pious director of a cotton mill! 

I thought of another Tennesseean, and this time I 
stood in the Alamo, and again I saw ghosts — for who 
that has blood in his veins can stand there and not 
see them? And this was another poor white who died 
there before he would pull down the flag that floated 
^bove him, or could notch on the stock of his rifle the 
dead Mexicans who were piled up before him — dead 
— giving to his country an empire and to her coming 
children an inspiration that is greater than land and 
gold, "yea, than much fine gold." And I thanked God 
again that in his youth there had been no cotton mills 
in Tennessee to do for Davy Crockett what the bear 
and panther and Indian could never do. 

For he, too, was a poor white, and in his day would 
have been as good for a cotton mill as a coonskin 
for a pint of whiskey. And his little life would have 
gone out behind their shutters of steel instead of the 
invader's bayonet, and the mention of his name would 
have brought no trumpet blast from the lips of fame : 
"Thermopylae had her messenger of defeat. The 
Alamo had none!" 

My friends, a man who would steal from a child 
his childhood, that which makes all his after life worth 
living, who would filch from it its body, brain and 
soul, is a human torpedo — a torpedo of Hades. 

They tell me that certain animals in the lower forms 
of life eat their young — a form of disease which we 
recognise in the sick hen which eats her Qgg and the 
swine which devours its young. Good Heavens ! Has 
our boasted civilisation reached the abnormal stage of 
its existence that it would live upon its young? Has 



3i6 Prose 

too much wealth and too much glory and too much 
selfishness and high living made again of some men 
the man-eater that lived before Adam? Talk not 
about his being a follower of Christ, who, when He 
wanted a simile to express what we might hope to see 
in heaven, took the little ones in His arms and said: 
"Of such is the kingdom of heaven." 

Silence. 

(Copyrighted by Charles Scribner's Sons.) 

SIDNEY LANIER, 1842-1881. IN "RETROSPECTS AND 
PROSPECTS." 

There are people who have a grudge against silence. 
"All the daughters of music shall be brought low." 
"Why should the daughters of music be brought low?" — David 
Grayson. 

My countrywomen and countrymen, I know few 
wants that press upon our modern life with more im- 
mediate necessity than the want of silence. In this 
culmination of the nineteenth century, ^vhich our gen- 
eration is witnessing, the world is far too full of noise. 
The nineteenth century worships Trade; and Trade 
is the most boisterous god of all the false gods under 
Heaven. Hear how his railways do thrill the land with 
interwoven roaring and yellings! Hear the clatter of 
his factories, the clank of his mills, the groaning of 
his forges, the sputtering and labouring of his water- 
power! And that is not half. Listen how he brags, 
in newspaper and pamphlet and huge placard and 
poster and advertisement ! Are not your ears fatigued 
with his braggart pretensions, with his stertorous 
vaunting of himself and his wares? Nay, in this age 
of noise, the very noise itself, which is usually but the 
wretched accompaniment of trade, has positively come 
to have an intrinsic commercial value of its own. It 
is a fact that some trades succeed by mere force of 
noise, by mere auctioneer's strength of voice, by mere 
loudness of stentorian advertisement, without possess- 



Prose 317 

ing a single other element of recommendation or 
success. 

Far be it from me to condemn the sounds of ham- 
mer and saw and anvil ; far be it from me to censure 
advertisements, which form the legitimate appliances 
of success in trade. I am not here for that to-day. 
This is not the place or the time to draw the distinction 
between the legitimate and the illegitimate rush of com- 
merce — between what is vile brag and what is proper 
self-assertion in the merchant's advertisement. But I 
know that there is an evil in all this noise. Out of this 
universal hubbub there is born a great wrong. A cer- 
(tain old homely phrase expresses this evil in vivid 
terms: In these days there is so much noise that we 
cannot hear ourselves think. 

What time have I to enumerate the signs and evi- 
dences of this evil, of not hearing ourselves think? 
They are on every hand. Crudity, immaturity, un- 
ripeness, acidity, instability — these things characterise 
our laws, our literature, all our thought, our politics, 
our social life, our loves and hates, our self-devel- 
opment. 

If there be here one who has learned from silence 
the divine secret whereby a man may harmonise the 
awful discordant noises of life, I invoke his witness 
that my words are true, that silence is the mother of 
a thousand radiant graces and rare virtues. 

Opinion. 

MARCUS AURELIUS ANTONINUS, 121-180 A.D. ABRIDGED 
FROM "THE MEDITATIONS." 

A question of "Mind over Matter." This selection has given courage 
to thousands. 

Men seek retreats for themselves, houses in the 
country, sea-shores, and mountains ; and thou too art 
wont to desire such things very much. But this is 
altogether a mark of the most common sort of men, 
for it is in thy power whenever thou shalt choose to 



3i8 Prose 

retire into thyself. For nowhere either witH more 
quiet or more freedom from trouble does a man re- 
tire than into his own soul, particularly when he has 
within him such thoughts that by looking into them 
he is immediately in perfect tranquillity; and I af- 
firm that tranquillity is nothing else than the good 
ordering of the mind. Constantly then give to thyself 
this retreat, and renew thyself. 

Take away thy opinion, and then there is taken away 
the complaint, "I have been harmed." Take away 
the complaint, 'T have been harmed," and the harm 
is taken away. 

How much trouble he avoids who does not look to 
see what his neighbour says or does or thinks, but 
only to what he does himself, that it may be just and 
pure. 

Occupy thyself with few things if thou wouldst be 
tranquil. 

Love the art, poor as it may be, which thou hast 
chosen, and be content with it; and pass through the 
rest of life like one who has intrusted to the gods 
with his whole soul all that he has, making thyself 
neither the tyrant nor the slave of any man. 

Always run to the short way; the short way 
is the natural; accordingly say and do everything in 
conformity with the soundest reason. For such a pur- 
pose frees a man from trouble and warfare. 

Crossing the Rubicon. 

J. S, KNOWLES, 1 784-1862. 
Every boy and girl comes to a Rubicon. 

A GENTLEMAN, Mr. Chairman, speaking of Caesar's 
benevolent disposition, and of the reluctance with 
which he entered into the civil war, observes, "How 
long did he pause upon the brink of the Rubicon!" 
How came he to the brink of that river? How dared 
he cross it? Shall private men respect the boundaries 



Prose 3 19 

of private property, and shall a man pay no respect to 
the boundaries of his country's rights ? How dared he 
cross that river? Oh! but he paused upon the brink. 
He should have perished upon the brink ere he had 
crossed it! Why did he pause? Why does a man's 
heart palpitate when he is on the point of committing 
an unlawful deed? Why does the very murderer, his 
victim sleeping before him, and his glaring eye taking 
the measure of the blow, strike wide of the mortal 
part? Because of conscience! 'Twas that made 
Caesar pause upon the brink of the Rubicon. Com- 
passion! What compassion? The compassion of an 
assassin that feels a momentary shudder, as his weapon 
begins to cut! Caesar paused upon the brink of the 
Rubicon! What was the Rubicon? The boundary 
of Caesar's province. From what did it separate his 
province? From his country. Was that country a 
desert ? No ; it was cultivated and fertile, rich and 
populous! Its sons were men of genius, spirit, and 
generosity ! Its daughters were lovely, susceptible, and 
chaste! Friendship was its inhabitant! Love was its 
inhabitant! Domestic affection was its inhabitant! 
Liberty was its inhabitant ! All bounded by the stream 
of the Rubicon! What was Caesar, that stood upon 
the bank of that stream ? A traitor, bringing war and 
pestilence into the heart of that country ! No wonder 
that he paused, — no wonder if, his imagination 
wrought upon by his conscience, he had beheld blood 
instead of water, and heard groans instead of mur- 
murs ! No wonder, if some Gorgon horror had 
turned him into stone upon the spot! But no! — he 
cried, *The die is cast!" He plunged! — he crossed! 
and Rome was free no more! 



320 Prose 

On Reducing the Army. 

WILLIAM PULTENEY, 1682-1764. 
For debating societies among college boys and girls. 

Sir, we have heard a great deal about an army con- 
tinued from year to year. I always have been, Sir, and 
always shall be, against a standing army of any kind. 
To me it is a terrible thing. Whether under that of 
a Parliamentary or any other designation, a standing 
army is still a standing army, whatever name it be 
called by. They are a body of men distinct from the 
body of the People. They are governed by different 
laws; and blind obedience, and an entire submission 
to the orders of their commanding officers, is their only 
principle. It is indeed impossible that the liberties of 
the People can be preserved in any country where a 
numerous standing army is kept up. By the military 
law, the administration of justice is so quick, and the 
punishment so severe, that neither officer nor soldier 
dares offer to dispute the orders of his supreme com- 
mander. If an officer were commanded to pull his own 
father out of this House, he must do it. Immediate 
death would be the sure consequence of the least 
grumbling. And if an officer were sent into the Court 
of Request, accompanied by a body of musketeers 
with screwed bayonets, and with orders to tell us 
what we ought to do, and how we were to vote, I 
know what would be the duty of this House ; I know 
it would be our duty to order the officer to be taken 
and hanged up at the door of the lobby; but, Sir, I 
doubt much if such a spirit could be found in this 
House, or in any House of Commons that will ever be 
in England. 

I talk not of imaginary things; I talk of what has 
happened to an English House of Commons, and from 
an English army ; not only from an English army, but 
an army that was raised by that very House of Com- 



Prose 321 

mons, an army that was paid by them, and an army 
that was commanded by Generals appointed by them. 
Therefore, do not let us vainly imagine that an army, 
raised and maintained by authority of Parliament, will 
always be submissive to them. If any army be so 
numerous as to have it in their power to overawe the 
Parliament, they will be submissive as long as the Par- 
liament does nothing to disoblige their favourite Gen- 
eral; but, when that case happens, I am afraid that, 
in place of the Parliament's dismissing the army, the 
army will dismiss the Parliament, as they have done 
heretofore. We are come to the Rubicon. Our army 
is now to be reduced, or it never will be; and this 
Nation, already overburdened with debts and taxes, 
must be loaded with the heavy charge of perpetually 
supporting a numerous standing army, and remain 
forever exposed to the danger of having its liberties 
and privileges trampled upon by any future King or 
Ministry who shall take it in their heads to do so, and 
shall take a proper care to model the army for that 
purpose. 

Against Foreign Entanglements. 

GEORGE WASHINGTON, 1732-1799. 

The forerunner of "The Monroe Doctrine." A question for college 
boys. 

Against the insidious wiles of foreign influence (I 
conjure you to believe me, fellow-citizens) the jeal- 
ousy of a free People ought to be constantly awake; 
since history and experience prove that foreign in- 
fluence is one of the most baneful foes of Republican 
Government. But that jealousy, to be useful, must be 
impartial; else it becomes the instrument of the very 
influence to be avoided, instead of a defence against 
it. Excessive partiality for one Nation, and exces- 
sive dislike for another, cause those whom they 
actuate to see danger only on one side, and serve to 



322 Prose 

veil, and even second, the arts of influence on the 
other. Real patriots, who may resist the intrigues of 
the favourite, are liable to become suspected and 
odious; while its tools and dupes usurp the applause 
and confidence of the People, to surrender their in- 
terests. The great rule of conduct for us, in regard 
to foreign Nations, is, in extending our commercial 
relations, to have with them as little political connec- 
tion as possible. So far as we have already formed 
engagements, let them be fulfilled with perfect good 
faith. Here let us stop. 

Europe has a set of primary interests, which to us 
have none, or a very remote relation. Hence, she 
must be engaged in frequent controversies, the causes 
of which are essentially foreign to our concerns. 
Hence, therefore, it must be unwise in us to implicate 
ourselves by artificial ties in the ordinary vicissitudes 
of her politics, or the ordinary combinations and col- 
lisions of her friendships or enmities. Our detached 
and distant situation invites and enables us to pursue 
a different course. If we remain one People, under 
an efficient Government, the period is not far off when 
we may defy material injury from external annoy- 
ance ; when we may take such an attitude as will cause 
the neutrality we may at any time resolve upon to 
be scrupulously respected; when belligerent Nations, 
under the impossibility of making acquisitions upon 
us, will not lightly hazard the giving us provocation; 
when we may choose peace or war, as our interests, 
guided by justice, shall counsel. Why forego the ad- 
vantages of so peculiar a situation? Why quit our 
own to stand on foreign ground? Why, by inter- 
weaving our destiny with that of any part of Europe, 
entangle our peace and prosperity, in the toils of Euro- 
pean ambition, rivalship, interest, humour, or caprice? 



Prose 323 

The Foreign Policy of Washington. 

CHARLES JAMES FOX, 1749-1806. 
For debate in college and high-school classes. 

How infinitely superior must appear the spirit and 
principles of General Washington, in his late address 
to Congress, compared with the policy of modern 
European Courts ! Illustrious man ! — deriving honour 
less from the splendour of his situation than from the 
dignity of his mind ! Grateful to France for the as- 
sistance received from her, in that great contest which 
secured the independence of America, he yet did not 
choose to give up the system of neutrality in her 
favour. Having once laid down the line of conduct 
most proper to be pursued, not all the insults and 
provocations of the French minister. Genet, could at 
all put him out of his way, or bend him from his pur- 
pose. It must, indeed, create astonishment, that, placed 
in circumstances so critical, and filling a station so 
conspicuous, the character of Washington should 
never once have been called in question; — that he 
should, in no one instance, have been accused either of 
improper insolence, or of mean submission, in his 
transactions with foreign Nations. It has been re- 
served for him to run the race of glory without ex- 
periencing the smallest interruption to the brilliancy of 
his career. The breath of censure has not dared to 
impeach the purity of his conduct, nor the eye of 
envy to raise its malignant glance to the elevation of 
his virtues. Such has been the transcendent merit and 
the unparalleled fate of this illustrious man! 

How did he act when insulted by Genet? Did he 
consider it as necessary to avenge himself for the mis- 
conduct or madness of an individual, by involving a 
whole continent in the horrors of war? No; he con- 
tented himself with procuring satisfaction for the in- 
sult, by causing Genet to be recalled; and thus, at 



324 Prose 

once, consulted his own dignity and the interests of his 
country. Happy Americans ! while the whirlwind flies 
over one quarter of the globe, and spreads everywhere 
desolation, you remain protected from its baneful ef- 
fects by your own virtues, and the wisdom of your 
Government. Separated from Europe by an immense 
ocean, you feel not the effect of those prejudices and 
passions which convert the boasted seats of civilisation 
into scenes of horror and bloodshed. You profit by 
the folly and madness of the contending Nations, and 
afford, in your more congenial clime, an asylum to 
those blessings and virtues which they wantonly con- 
temn, or wickedly exclude from their bosom! Culti- 
vating the arts of peace under the influence of free- 
dom, you advance, by rapid strides, to opulence and 
distinction; and if, by any accident, you should be 
compelled to take part in the present unhappy contest, 
— if you should find it necessary to avenge insult, or 
repel injury, — the world will bear witness to the equity 
of your sentiments and the moderation of your views ; 
and the success of your arms will, no doubt, be pro- 
portioned to the justice of your cause! 

Sectarian Tyranny. 

HENRY GRATTAN, 1746- 1820. 
A question that comes up in school-board meetings. 

Whenever one sect degrades another on account of 
religion, such degradation is the tyranny of a sect. 
When you enact that, on account of his religion, no 
Catholic shall sit in Parliament, you do what amounts 
to the tyranny of a sect. When you enact that no 
Catholic shall be a sheriff, you do what amounts to the 
tyranny of a sect. When you enact that no Catholic 
shall be a general, you do what amounts to the tyranny 
of a sect. There are two descriptions of laws, — the 
municipal law, which binds the People, and the law of 
God, which binds the Parliament and the People. 



Prose 325 

Whenever you do any act which is contrary to His 
laws, as expressed in His work, which is the world, or 
in His book, the Bible, you exceed your right; when- 
ever you rest any of your establishments on that ex- 
cess, you rest it on a foundation which is weak and 
fallacious ; whenever you attempt to establish your 
Government, or your property, or your Church, on 
religious restrictions, you establish them on that false 
foundation, and you oppose the Almighty ; and though 
you had a host of mitres on your side, you banish 
God from your ecclesiastical Constitution, and free- 
dom from your political. In vain shall men en- 
deavour to make this the cause of the Church; they 
aggravate the crime, by the endeavour to make their 
God their fellow in the injustice. Such rights are the 
rights of ambition; they are the rights of conquest; 
and in your case, they have been the rights of suicide. 
They begin by attacking liberty; they end by the loss 
of empire! 

A Republic or a Monarchy? 

VICTOR HUGO, 1802-1885. 
Is this a question that has been settled? 

Gentlemen, let us come at the pith of this debate. 
It is not our side of the House, but you, the Mon- 
archists, who have provoked it. The question, a Re- 
public or a Monarchy, is before us. No one has any 
longer the power or the right to elude it. For more 
than two years, this question, secretly and audaciously 
agitated, has harassed the country. It weighs upon the 
Present. It clouds the Future. The moment has come 
for our deliverance from it. Yes, the moment has 
come for us to regard it face to face — to see what it is 
made of. Now, then, let us show our cards ! No more 
concealment ! I affirm then, in the name of the eternal 
laws of human morality, that Monarchy is an his- 
torical fact, and nothing more. Now, when the fact 



326 Prose 

is extinct nothing survives, and all is told. It is other- 
wise with right. Right even when it no longer has 
fact to sustain it, — even when it no longer carries a 
material weight, — preserves still its moral weight, 
and is always right. Hence it is that, in an overthrown 
Republic, there remains a right, while in a fallen Mon- 
archy there remains only a ruin. Cease then, ye 
Legitimists, to appeal to us from the position of right ! 
Before the right of the People, which is sovereignty, 
there is no other right but the right of the individual, 
which is liberty. Beyond that, all is a chimera. To 
talk of the kingly right in this great age of ours, and 
at this great Tribune, is to pronounce a word void 
of meaning. 

But, if you cannot speak in the name of right, will 
you speak in the name of fact? Will you say that 
political stability is the offspring of hereditary royalty, 
— and that Royalty is better than Democracy for a 
State ? What ! You would have those scenes renewed, 
those experiences recommenced, which overwhelmed 
kings and princes : the feeble, like Louis the Sixteenth ; 
the able and strong, like Louis Philippe ; whole families 
of royal lineage, — high-born women, saintly widows, 
innocent children! And of those lamentable experi- 
ences you have not had enough? You would have 
yet more? But you are without pity. Royalists, — or 
without memory! We ask your mercy on these un- 
fortunate royal families. Good Heavens ! This Place, 
which you traverse daily, on your way to this House, 
— does it, then, teach you nothing? — when, if you but 
stamped on the pavement, two paces from those deadly 
Tuileries, which you covet still, — but stamped on that 
fatal pavement, — you could conjure up, at will, the 
Scaffold from which the old Monarchy was plunged 
into the tomb, or the Cah in which the new royalty 
escaped into exile ! 

Ah, men of ancient parties ! you will learn, ere long, 
that at this present time, — in this nineteenth century. 



Prose 327 

— after the scaffold of Louis the Sixteenth, after the 
downfall of Napoleon, after the exile of Charles the 
Tenth, after the flight of Louis Philippe, after the 
French Revolution, in a word, — that is to say, after 
this renewal, complete, absolute, prodigious, of prin- 
ciples, convictions, opinions, situations, influences, and 
facts, — it is the Republic which is solid ground, and 
the Monarchy which is the perilous venture! 



Mr. Tulliver's Opinion of His Wife and Children. 

MARIAN EVANS (GEORGE ELIOT), 1819-1880. SELECTED AND 
ABRIDGED FROM "THE MILL ON THE FLOSS." 

Young Cavalier, aged fourteen, did I hear you say at one of the 
"Debates," when the subject was Suffrage for Women, "Shall we have 
a nation of Hysterics?" Mr. Tulliver will remind you of the coloured 
man who told Harriet Beecher Stowe that women ought not to vote 
because they hadn't enough brains? 

What I want is to give Tom a good eddication — 
an eddication as '11 be a bread to him. That was what 
I was thinking of when I gave notice to leave th' 
academy at Lady's-Day. 

The two years at th' academy 'ud ha' done well 
enough, if I'd meant to make a miller and farmer of 
him, for he's had a fine sight more schoolin' nor / 
ever got : all the learnin' my father ever paid for was 
a bit o' birch at one end and the alphabet at th' other. 
But I should like Tom to be a bit of a scholard, so 
as he might be up to the tricks o' these fellows as talk 
fine and write with a flourish. It 'ud be a help to me 
wi' these law-suits, and arbitrations and things. I 
wouldn't make a downright lawyer o' the lad — I should 
be sorry for him to be a raskill — but a sort o' engi- 
neer, or a surveyor, or an auctioneer and vallyer, like 
Riley. 

I'll have nothing to do wi' a 'cademy again: what- 
iver school I send Tom to, it sha'nt be a 'cademy; it 
shall be a place where the lads spend their time i' 
summat else besides blacking the family's shoes, and 



328 Prose 

getting up the potatoes. It's an uncommon puzzling 
thing to know what school to pick. 

I want Tom to be such a sort o' man as can talk 
pretty nigh as well as if it was all wrote out for him, 
and knows a good lot o' words as don't mean so much, 
so as you can't lay hold of 'em i' law; and a good 
solid knowledge o' business too. 

What I'm a bit afraid on is, as Tom hasn't got 
the right sort c' brains for a smart fellow. I doubt 
he's a bit slowish. He takes after your family, Bessy. 

It seems a bit of a pity, though, as the lad should 
take after the mother's side, istead o' the little wench. 
That's the worst on 't wi' crossing o' breeds : you can 
never justly calkilate what '11 come on 't. The little 
un takes after my side now ; she's twice as 'cute as 
Tom. Too 'cute for a woman, I'm afraid. It's no 
mischief much while she's a little un, but an over- 
'cute woman 's no better nor a long-tailed sheep — 
she'll fetch none the bigger price for that. 

A woman's no business wi' being so clever; it '11 
turn to trouble, I doubt. But, bless you! she'll read 
the books and understand 'em better nor half the folks 
as are growed up. 

It's a pity but what she'd been the lad — she'd ha' 
been a match for the lawyers, she would. It's the 
wonderful'st thing as I picked the mother because she 
wasn't o'er 'cute — bein' a good-looking woman too, an* 
come of a rare family for managing; but I picked her 
from her sisters o' purpose 'cause she was a bit weak, 
like ; for I wasn't agoin' to be told the rights o' things 
by my own fireside. But you see when a man's got 
brains himself, there's no knowing where they'll run 
to ; an' a pleasant sort o' soft woman may go on breed- 
ing stupid lads and 'cute wenches till it's like as if the 
world was turned topsyturvy. It's an uncommon 
puzzlin' thing. 

Everything winds about so — the more straightfor- 
rard you are, the more you're puzzled. 



Prose 329 



Do Men Merit Franchise? 

KATE GOUGAR, IN THE "CHICAGO RECORD-HERALD." 

Sometimes, a woman is a Cavalier. — George W. Cable. 

A famous Englishman in a celebrated book has said that the special 
feminine graces of the American woman do not seem to have suffered 
from "the democratic feeling in America, that all men are free and 
equal," — that they are possessed of inalienable rights and corresponding 
duties. He holds that "the root idea of democracy" cannot stop at 
defining "men" as male human beings; and that Americans were the 
first to apply to women, also, this respectful recognition of the individual. 
And that the result of this recognition is a benefit to woman. He says 
that woman has gained and that the whole nation has gained in conse- 
quence; and that men always gain when they treat women as equals 
instead of treating them as drudges or playthings. He believes that the 
habits of society and the characters of children are moulded by women, — 
by mothers, — and that the respect for women which American men feel, 
or pretend to feel, has a good effect on their conduct. 

This selection on Franchise is placed here in honour of Frederick, who 
at the age of sixteen years made his first grand speech on "Suffrage for 
Women." The subject is a mighty river running to the sea, and it will 
not rest until it gets there; not while boys have debating clubs. 

In the light of yesterday's election, do you believe 
Chicago men should longer be allowed the privilege 
of voting? Ought not the franchise to be taken from 
them because of their indifference and ignorance? 
Over 400,000 men were registered, and, doubtless, 
100,000 more were eligible. Of this number almost 
two-thirds stayed at home, refusing to vote for or 
against the charter. Why? 

Were they blind to all newspaper entreaties, deaf 
to the clamour of rival processions and dead to the 
call of political leaders, who for weeks, from oppo- 
site camps, had faithfully urged a large vote]^ Was 
the question so local as to affect only a street or a 
precinct? Was it sprung on the people without years 
of preliminary discussion? Was it of so slight im- 
portance as not to affect the city's whole future. 

Did employers refuse to let labourers know of the 
election? Was the health of the "stronger sex" so 
frail as to be injured by the little showers of yester- 
day? If none of these reasons is correct, does not 
the indifference of the two-thirds prove they should 
be disfranchised? 



330 Prose 

Then of the one-third, who did vote, how many 
voted right, that is, as the principal papers advised? 
Only 59,000. Only a handful are left who will both 
vote and vote right ( ?). Ought they not to be dis- 
franchised because the majority of their sex won't 
vote or else won't vote right? This reasoning has, 
to many men, been sufficient to keep women dis- 
franchised. Shall we now apply it to men? 

The Death Penalty for New Offences. 

LORD BYRON, 1778-1824. 

"Dear Madam : 

In practically every state in the Union, the question of capital punish- 
ment for women is being strongly agitated." 

This is the beginning of a communication just received concerning 
"The Death Penalty." Evidently Lord Byron's Speech is not the end of 
the matter. 

Setting aside the palpable injustice and the certain 
inefficiency of this Bill, are there not capital punish- 
ments sufficient in your statutes? Is there not blood 
enough upon your penal code, that more must be 
poured forth, to ascend to Heaven and testify against 
you? How will you carry this Bill into effect? Can 
you commit a whole country to their own prison? 
Will you erect a gibbet in every field, and hang up men 
like scarecrows? Or will you proceed (as you must, 
to bring this measure into effect) by decimation; place 
the country under martial law ; depopulate and lay 
waste all around you; and restore Sherwood Forest 
as an acceptable gift to the Crown, in its former con- 
dition of a royal chase, and an asylum for outlaws? 
Are these the remedies for a starving and desperate 
populace? Will the famished wretch who has braved 
your bayonets be appalled by your gibbets? When 
death is a relief, and the only relief, it appears, that 
you will afford him, will he be dragooned into tran- 
quillity? Will that which could not be effected by 
your grenadiers be accomplished by your execu- 
tioners ? 



Prose 331 

The framers of such a Bill must be content to in- 
herit the honours of that Athenian lawgiver, whose 
edicts were said to be written not in ink, but in blood. 
But suppose it passed, — suppose one of these men, as I 
have seen them, meagre with famine, sullen with de- 
spair, careless of a life which your Lordships are, 
perhaps, about to value at something less than the price 
of a stocking- frame, — suppose this man surrounded by 
those children, for whom he is unable to procure bread 
at the hazard of his existence, about to be torn forever 
from a family which he lately supported in peaceful 
industry, and which it is not his fault that he can no 
longer so support ; — suppose this man, — and there are 
ten thousand such, from whom you may select your 
victims, — dragged into Court, to be tried, for this new 
offence, by this new law, — still, there are two things 
wanting to convict and condemn him, and these are, 
in my opinion, twelve butchers for a Jury, and a Jef- 
fries for a Judge ! 

Labour Struggles. 

THOMAS BURT, M.P., 1837. 

The history of the world is the history of the Labour Question. This 
question is here to stay until it is settled. A question is never settled 
until it is settled right. Wrong work never brought a right answer in 
Multiplication or Long Division. This declamation is placed here 
for the benefit of my old pupils, D. and F. and H. in Princeton 
College, who are likely to lead debates, and they will go into business 
and face "strikes." There has never been a more modest and judicial 
voice heard on the Labour Question than that of "The Northumberland 
Orator." 

Ladies and Gentlemen. — After the welcome that 
was accorded to you yesterday by the Mayor of New- 
castle on behalf of the Corporation and the inhabitants 
of the city, I may say that it affords me very great 
pleasure, on behalf of the Trades Council of New- 
castle, the Arrangements Committee, and, I may add, 
the workmen generally of the North of England, to 
bid you a hearty welcome to this ancient town. It is 
a town— a city — it was a town before it was a city — 



332 Prose 

but it is a city, I was going to say, of ancient renown. 
Chieftains, kings, leaders of armies, have met in the 
North of England in deadly strife. We are met from 
the South and the North and the West to build up 
rather than to destroy. Fittingly enough, this Labour 
Parliament meets in a very active industrial centre. 
The workmen in the North of England have for years, 
many of them, been well organised — not too well. We 
have also had our industrial conflicts — great battles on 
behalf of labour. The nine hours' struggle, under the 
leadership of John Burnett was fought and won on 
Tyneside. In some of these conflicts we have been 
defeated. We have never been discouraged ; we have 
never been disorganised. Even our very defeats have 
made us stronger and more determined to fight in the 
future on behalf of the right. 

I see before me perhaps — indeed I think I may omit 
"perhaps" — and say the largest and most representa- 
tive body of trades unionists that ever has met within 
the boundaries of this Empire — I think I might go 
further and say that has ever met anywhere in the 
civilised world. We have the unskilled labourers rep- 
resented as they never were before. I hardly like to 
say unskilled. I would rather say less skilled, because 
all labour, even the rudest, requires a considerable 
amount of skill. All honour to the men who have 
organised these masses. I for one rejoice at their 
success. 

As the very first step of progress, you must have 
organisation. I am glad too, ladies and gentlemen, 
that we have the women of this country more largely 
represented than they have been before. Women need 
organisation even more than men. And wherever 
woman does the same work, in quality and in quantity 
as men, she ought to ask for the same pay as the 
man. And we ought to support her, not only on the 
grounds of justice and humanity, but on grounds of 
self-defence, in asserting that claim. Labour ought 



Prose 333 

to be recognised as a whole. We don't want any 
classes or castes. We want no barriers of race or 
colour. Wherever the oppressor crushes, wherever an 
effort is made to lift the fallen, our sympathies and 
our help ought to go forth to aid the oppressed. It 
is one of your Standing Orders that papers in sup- 
port of trades unions are unnecessary. Speeches in 
support of trades unions are also unnecessary. I 
should as soon think — standing near the birthplace of 
George Stephenson — of attempting to vindicate the lo- 
comotive engine or the railway system : they have vin- 
dicated themselves. The locomotive, however, needs 
to be controlled, and to be kept on the rails, if it is to 
do effective rather than destructive work. And it is 
the same with trades unions, ladies and gentlemen. 
We have won great victories in the past. We need 
not expatiate on those victories. A great change has 
taken place within my own memory. Twenty-seven 
years ago, when I delivered my first trade-union 
speech, we had few friends. I remember that we were 
told by the political economists that wages were set- 
tled by demand and supply entirely. Ladies and gen- 
tlemen, we have converted the political economists. 
Demand and supply is a factor; at your peril you 
forget that! But we have taught them that men are 
something more than machines — that they are not 
bales of cotton, or tons of coal, or hogsheads of sugar, 
but that they have affections, that they have a soul, 
that they have a will, that they are men, and that they 
must be treated as men. They have had to add 
humanity to their political economy. 

We have been told that trade unionism always means 
strikes. Some of the stupidest, some of the most fool- 
ish strikes I have ever known have been by non- 
unionists and of only partially organised men, and you 
may take this as a fact, that if the union once gets its 
feet fairly set, in proportion to its power, there will 
be a diminution rather than an increase of strikes. 



334 Prose 

The newer unions have, perhaps, by their previous 
apathy, or by the difficulties they have had to face, 
found themselves hemmed in all round. They hardly 
have their right of existence recognised. Their leaders 
are victimised ; they have no weapon but strikes. But, 
as they become organised, you will find that strikes 
will diminish rather than increase. Now, ladies and 
gentlemen, do not let me be misunderstood. Many of 
you know that I have faced unpopularity in order to 
avoid strikes, but I am not here to utter a wholesale 
condemnation of strikes. On the contrary, I am here 
to say that, in many cases, owing to the clatter and 
brawl of the machinery, owing to the deafness of 
Mammon and its blindness, I am here to say that, in 
many cases, the workman cannot get attention until 
he stops the wheels. But the strike is an ugly weapon. 
I don't know whether any of you have tried to throv/ 
a boomerang. It is a very deadly weapon: but if it 
is not skilfully thrown, it is apt to come back, and 
to hit and to wound the thrower. So it is, gentlemen, 
with a strike. We cannot give up the right to strike, 
however. We are glad that through the watchfulness 
of the London Trades Council, we have had our right 
to strike vindicated before the law, showing that eternal 
vigilance is the price of liberty. But wherever we can 
have our difficulties and our disputes calmly argued 
and settled by the arbitrament of reason, I venture 
to say that we are fools — almost criminals — if we re- 
sort to a strike. One of the things, however, that 
trades unions have not wholly established is the right 
to ask and to demand of the capitalist, however power- 
ful and proud he may be, that he shall receive and 
listen to your properly accredited representatives. 
Now the probability is that strikes in the future, when 
they do occur, will be on a larger scale than they have 
been in the past. Workmen will refuse to blackleg; 
they will refuse to do it either directly or indirectly. 
They will refuse to supplant, so far as they possibly 



Prose 335 

can, their fellows who, they believe, are striking and 
struggling for their right. And, gentlemen, I have not 
a word to say against that, and some of you may think 
it would be a wholesome lesson to the dullest among 
the capitalists to teach them the value of labour by 
bringing, as far as possible, the whole of the industries 
of the country to a standstill. I am glad that that 
has met with only faint applause. It is very attractive, 
and, ladies and gentlemen, I venture to say that, if 
we were dealing only with the stupidest and the most 
tyrannical, I, for one, would not discourage that idea. 
But bear in mind that it is a very difficult game to 
play, and that it would hurt the innocent much more 
than the guilty — that the wealthy capitalist would 
hardly enjoy a single luxury the less. If you could 
carry on your strike long enough, and make it exten- 
sive enough you could make him feel not only in his 
purse, but in his stomach also, his most vulnerable 
point. Long before you reach that, however, thousands 
and tens of thousands of women and children and the 
bread-winners would have suffered, and, perhaps, 
many of them would have been carried to a premature 
grave. 

Trusts. 

GROVER CLEVELAND, 1837. 

Is this an important selection? Yea, truly! For the whole human 
family should be a human family and not a multitude of competing 
bands of schemers. The topic was worthy of a great President and is 
forever worthy of the consideration of a great People. 

There is one topic in which our People rightfully 
take a deep interest. I refer to the existence of trusts 
and other huge aggregations of capital, the object of 
which is to secure the monopoly of some particular 
branch of trade, industry, or commerce and to stifle 
wholesome competition. The tendency of trusts is to 
crush out individual independence and to hinder or 
prevent the free use of human faculties and the full 
development of human character. Through them the 



336 Prose 

farmer, the artisan, and the small trader is in danger 
of dislodgment from the proud position of being his 
own master, watchful of all that touches his country's 
prosperity, in which he has an individual lot, and in- 
terested in all that affects the advantages of business 
of which he is a factor, to be relegated to the level of 
a mere appurtenance to a great machine, with little 
free will, with no duty but that of passive obedience, 
and with little hope or opportunity of rising in the 
scale of responsible and helpful citizenship. 

To the instinctive belief that such is the inevitable 
trend of trusts and monopolies is due the widespread 
and deep-seated popular aversion in which they are 
held and the not unreasonable insistence that, what- 
ever may be their incidental economic advantages, their 
general effect upon personal character, prospects, and 
usefulness cannot be otherwise than injurious. 

The Real Business Man. 

WILLIAM JENNINGS BRYAN. FROM "THE CROSS OF GOLD." 
BEFORE THE DEMOCRATIC NATIONAL CONVENTION. JULY 
9, 1896. 

This extract, from that pivotal speech "The Cross of Gold," is still 
before the people. 

When you, the gold delegates, come before us and 
tell us that we are about to disturb your business in- 
terests, we reply that you have disturbed our business 
interests by your course. 

We say to you that you have made the definition 
of a business man too limited in its application. The 
man who is employed for wages is as much a business 
man as his employer; the attorney in a country town 
is as much a business man as the corporation counsel 
in a great metropolis ; the merchant at the cross-roads 
store is as much a business man as the merchant of 
New York ; the farmer who goes forth in the morning 
and toils all day — who begins in the spring and toils 
all summer — and who by the application of brain and 



Prose 337 

muscle to the natural resources of the country creates 
wealth, is as much a business man as the man who 
goes upon the board of trade and bets upon the price 
of grain; the miners who go down a thousand feet 
into the earth, or climb two thousand feet upon the 
cliffs, and bring forth from their hiding-places the 
precious metals to be poured into the channels of trade 
are as much business men as the few financial mag- 
nates who, in a back room, corner the money of the 
world. We come to speak for this broader class of 
business men. 

Ah, my friends, we say not one word against those 
\yho live upon the Atlantic coast, but the hardy 
pioneers who have braved all the dangers of the wilder- 
ness, who have made the desert to blossom as the rose 
— the pioneers away out there [pointing to the West], 
who rear their children near to Nature's heart, where 
they can mingle their voices with the voices of the 
birds — out there where they have erected school- 
houses for the education of their young, churches 
where they praise their Creator, and cemeteries where 
rest the ashes of their dead — these people, we say, are 
as deserving of the consideration of our party as any 
people in this country. It is for these that we speak. 

On Queen Victoria. 

LORD ROSEBERY AT THE UNVEILING OF A STATUE AT 
LEITH. 

Mr. Provost, Ladies and Gentlemen, — you do 
well to raise a statue in Leith to our late Queen, as 
Leith is the city of Queens. For a long series of years 
almost all our Scottish Queens obtained their first sight 
of Scotland from Leith, and your old town gave them 
their earliest impression of the land where they were 
to dwell. The wives of James L, II., and III., the 
first wife of James V., and Anne of Denmark, the 
wife of James VI., all here first set foot in Scotland, 
while Mary of Guise, though she landed at St. An- 



338 Prose 

drews, alone of all these Queens chose Leith as a 
residence. There landed, too, the hapless Mary of 
tragedy and romance, when she came from France to 
reign and found a long prison and a violent death. 
Well may Leith, then, be called the city of Queens, 
and she does wisely in erecting a statue to one who 
was not merely a great Sovereign, a Queen and Em- 
press of unbounded realms, but also a true Queen of 
Scots. (Cheers.) 

Let us remember that she was not merely the Queen 
but the mother of the nation. Under the brooding 
care of her long reign her sovereignty emerged into 
a double and incalculable Empire, her sympathy was 
with all her subjects, she watched and fostered all 
good causes with maternal care. She was, indeed, the 
mother of her people. That was not one of the titles 
to which she succeeded by inheritance. The four 
Georges and the fourth William did little for the cause 
of Monarchy. Even her grandfather, whose long 
reign was so full of glory and disaster, cannot be said 
to have helped it much. And now, at the death of 
William the Fourth, the whole world saw with pathetic 
interest the Princes, the Ministers, the Court, as it 
were, all in the shade, and in the foreground the pure 
figure of a young girl seated on the Throne which we 
esteem the greatest in the world. No one can measure 
the enthusiasm, the tenderness, the hope that that spec- 
tacle evoked. Queen Victoria was then, as it were, the 
child, the darling of her people, and she lived to be- 
come their venerated mother. Under her sway the 
Empire waxed and waxed until it seemed too great 
for any single Crown. She saw her arms, though not, 
indeed, free from reverse, crowned with glory, and 
the wealth of her dominions increased until it became 
a matter for anxiety lest it should sap the charac- 
ter of the nation; but the spirit of her people, so 
far as it could be tested, remained undiminished and 
unquenched. 



Prose 339 

The basis of her Throne, which, when she succeeded 
to it, seemed none too strong, was indefinitely broad- 
ened and strengthened by this sense of general well- 
being as compared with the lean years of hunger and 
discontent which had preceded her accession. When 
Queen Victoria succeeded to the Crown the force and 
tradition of Monarchy had much declined in this coun- 
try. Greatly to her own renown, and for the wel- 
fare of her people, amidst toppling dynasties and vio- 
lent convulsions abroad, she made her kingship, her 
leadership, her guidance an increasing power, and an 
increasing power for good. (Cheers.) She not 
merely offered the example of a pure and simple family 
life in the midst of a splendid Court, but she animated 
the whole nation with a sense of sympathy and fel- 
lowship that proceeded from the Throne. She knit 
her peoples together, and that I believe will be her 
noblest epitaph. (Cheers.) It is not only that under 
her was Canada brought from civil war to cordial al- 
legiance as the noblest dominion of the Empire, not 
only that the continent of Australia became a living 
and loyal reality, that New Zealand definitely received 
the British flag, and that India, with limits im- 
measurably extended, appeared as a new empire under 
sovereignty. It is not that which I would emphasise 
to-day. I do not even emphasise the great develop- 
ment of science and literature which proceeded under 
her reign, or the great discoveries which seemed in- 
definitely to extend the dominion and power of man- 
kind — perhaps I must not include in her epoch our 
animated competition with the fowls of the air and 
the fishes of the sea. (Laughter.) But more than 
enough remains for renown, and I will not undertake 
the prodigious survey, for what I want to urge is 
something different. It is that both within and outside 
these islands there was established under the last reign 
a new relation of personal affection and allegiance to 
the wearer of the British Crown. Nor is that all, or 



340 Prose 

nearly all. It is not the mere increase of territory, 
not the bloodshed of war, however triumphant, nor 
the mere swell of wealth that are the test of a glorious 
reign. It is well to make an Empire; it is well to see 
victory crown a righteous cause; it is well to see a 
nation reap the fruits of its industry and intelligence. 
But the test of a reign must be the condition of the 
nation itself (cheers) — its moral, physical, intellectual 
welfare. And what reign will better bear the crucial 
test than the long years of Queen Victoria? They 
were a period of wise progress, of increasing liberty, 
of unwearied emancipation. It was a period marked 
by the promotion of health and education, the rais- 
ing of wages, the cheapening of all the necessities of 
life, the larger association of the nation in its own 
government, the removal of religious barriers, not 
merely in tests, but in Christian co-operation — all this 
marked the sublime and upward path of her reign. 
(Cheers.) Contrast the condition of the people as 
she found it at her accession and as she left it at her 
death, and you will see an advance which may well 
be called splendid, however much may yet remain to 
be done. You may say that the greater part of this 
work was done by Ministers or Parliaments. That is 
true enough. But as a bad Sovereign bears the dis- 
grace of a bad reign, so a good Sovereign should bear 
the honour of a good. (Cheers.) Remember, too, that 
she was an animating, not a resisting force, for her 
ruling passion was patriotism, an absorbing devotion 
to her country, its needs, and its glory. No one can 
limit the effect of such a character upon the Throne. 
No one can estimate the colour and inspiration which 
a British Sovereign of exalted aims can give to the 
course of events who has not attentively studied this 
strange country of ours, almost equally swayed as it is 
by the spirit of democracy and the spirit of tradition. 
"Where the word of the King is, there is power." 



Prose 341 

Old-Age Pensions. 

FRANK PARSONS. IN "THE STORY OF NEW ZEALAND." 

This selection is made because it shows the progress and the procession 
of the world movement. Debating societies will compare it with the 
Law of Leptines as set forth by Demosthenes, when "the hero," always 
a fighter, and his descendants were pensioned. The question of pensions 
is always before the public and always before debaters in college. 

To free the aged and deserving poor from want, 
relieve them from the stigma of charity and the poor- 
house, and enable them to live at home in freedom 
and independence when their days of work are done, 
New Zealand in 1898 established a system of moderate 
annuities from the state treasury for such persons as 
a right, based on principles of partnership and brother- 
hood, justice and humanity, on the value their lives 
have been to the commonwealth in earlier years, on the 
responsibility of society, and the worth of kindness and 
good treatment, not only to the recipients, but to the 
whole community. 

It is clearly just that one who has built his best 
years into the wealth and prosperity of a country and 
lived a virtuous and helpful life, should have a rea- 
sonable subsistence in old age without the ignominy 
and restraint of the poorhouse. All civilised nations 
recognise the duty to make provision for the destitute, 
but the duty of placing that provision in deserving 
cases on the plane of justice instead of charity, and 
making it conform to the liberty, independence, and 
comfort of the recipient, has just begun to dawn upon 
the world. The bitterness of charity is keenly felt 
by the better class of the aged poor, and the fear 
of want in old age hangs like a shadow over the whole 
lives of the wage-workers. Their labour has helped 
to create the values on which the nation's industries 
rest and from which its income largely flows. Our 
best colleges pay their professors annuities in old age 
as part of the fair remuneration of their toil. Soldiers 



342 Prose 

and civil servants receive pensions because of the serv- 
ice they have rendered the community. But the 
workers in the factories and on the farms are just as 
necessary to the pubHc welfare as the police and postal 
clerks, and have just as much right to consideration 
in old age, whether on grounds of sympathy or jus- 
tice. Yet till recent years no nation has recognised 
this principle. 

Spinners in the Dark. 

EDWIN MARKHAM. A SELECTION FROM "SPINNERS IN 
THE DARK" IN "THE COSMOPOLITAN," JULY, 1907. 

An inevitable subject for debate in the U. S. Legislature: "What 
is the proper method of freeing 'The Spinner in the Dark' ?" 

The machinery dreamed of by Aristotle — cunning, 
swift, and sure — sprang into existence, but it liberated 
no slave; it lifted no load from the worker. "It is 
doubtful," said John Stuart Mill, "whether machinery 
has lightened the burden of a single human being." 
But it has done one thing never done before — it has 
drawn a host of little children into the grim slavery 
of the profit-hunters. Remembering this fact, there 
are dark moments when we can see no fatherly provi- 
dence in the modern use of lever and wheel and screw 
and pulley that lift and tug and run for us. 

The labour conditions of men and women carry 
many wrongs. But the crowning wrong is to allow 
defenceless little ones to be wasted and work-worn 
before they are hardened, to allow them to be robbed 
of the opportunities of this earthly life that means so 
mightily for the eternities, to allow them to be 
quenched and trampled for a few pitiful pennies that 
would not keep a child of the rich in money for bon- 
bons, nor pay for the fringe on the embroidered 
blanket of my lady's pampered dog. 

It was at the spinning- frames that Manchester began 
to heap her indignities upon the children. It is at 
the spinning- frames that some of the worst atrocities 



Prose 343 

of child labour are in operation in our own land. In 
the cotton-factories the **mill-mites," or mill-children, 
are at their spinning, sometimes by day, sometimes by 
night, the lint of the cotton always in their lungs and 
the thunder of the machinery always in their ears. 
They are stunted or maimed or hurried out of life by 
the hundreds. This weaving of cotton cloth may be 
called ''a necessity," but the weaving of silk is not a 
necessity. Men have been brave in buckskin, women 
happy in homespun. Men loved and laughed for ages 
before the proud hour when they first learned to spin 
the entrails of worms into silken coverings. 

In spite of all this, we have over eight thousand 
children working in our silk-mills. In her output of 
silk, America vies with Europe and the Orient. But 
let this be no boast; for across the lustrous fabrics 
piled in bright bolts on shelf and counter, or hung in 
shimmering, flower-hued garments in our show- 
windows, stretches the gaunt shadow of the little child. 

Inside the mill there is the constant strain of young 
muscle matched against untiring machinery. The chil- 
dren at the frames must stand all night, always alert, 
always watchful for broken threads, nimble to let no 
loose end be caught in with other threads. Nor must 
any loose curls or dangling braids adorn the heads of 
the little mill-folk. Braids and curls are for the 
picture-book children ; or for the little misses who wear 
the silk, not for the little workers who spin the silk. 
Childish things must be put aside by our army of wage- 
earning children. 

Chances of being marred and maimed, of contract- 
ing tuberculosis and all the long train of diseases that 
send a girl into womanhood depleted and defeated — 
these are the burdens we add to the labour weight laid 
upon the little maidens who work in the silk-mills. But 
worse than all these hurts of the flesh are the injuries 
imposed upon the soul. 

Bad as day-work is for the child, night-work is far 



344 Prose 

worse. But a mill-baron explains, saying: "By run- 
ning two shifts, a day-shift and a night-shift, we get 
our capital for three per cent, interest. See?" Three 
per cent, seemed ample excuse for all the barbarism of 
his business. Three per cent. ! Potent words ! Baron, 
carve them on the little headstones ! 

The Puritans. 

THEODORE ROOSEVELT, 1864. ABRIDGED FROM AN AD- 
DRESS ON THE OCCASION OF THE LAYING OF THE COR- 
NER STONE OF THE PILGRIM MEMORIAL MONUMENT. 
PROVINCETOWN, MASS., AUGUST 20, 1907. 

He who stands by justice, let him be aware of it. When justice 
seems to fail, let him keep his faith. — Salter. 

It is not too much to say that the event com- 
memorated by the monument which we have come 
here to dedicate was one of those rare events which 
can in good faith be called of world importance. The 
coming hither of the Puritan three centuries ago 
shaped the destinies of this continent, and therefore 
profoundly affected the destiny of the whole world. 
Men of other races, the Frenchman and the Spaniard, 
the Dutchman, the German, the Scotchman and the 
Swede, made settlements within what is now the 
United States during the colonial period of our his- 
tory and before the Declaration of Independence ; and 
since then there has been an ever-swelling immigration 
from Ireland and from the mainland of Europe; but 
it was the Englishman who settled in Virginia and the 
Englishman who settled in Massachusetts, who did 
most in shaping the lines of our national development. 

We cannot as a nation be too profoundly grateful 
for the fact that the Puritan has stamped his influence 
so deeply on our national life. We need have but 
scant patience with the men who now rail at the Puri- 
tan's faults. They were evident, of course, for it is 
a quality of strong natures that their feelings, like their 
virtues, should stand out in bold relief; but there is 
nothing easier than to belittle the great men of the 



Prose 345 

past by dwelling only on the points where they come 
short of the universally recognised standards of the 
present. Men must be judged with reference to the 
age in which they dwell, and the work they have to do. 
The Puritan's task was to conquer a continent; not 
merely to overrun it, but to settle it, to till it, to build 
upon it a high industrial and social life; and, while 
engaged in the rough work of taming the shaggy wil- 
derness, at that very time also to lay deep the im- 
movable foundations of our whole American system 
of civil, political, and religious liberty achieved through 
the orderly process of law. This was the work allotted 
him to do ; this is the work he did ; and only a master 
spirit among men could have done it. 

We have travelled far since his day. That liberty 
of conscience which he demanded for himself, we now 
realise must be as freely accorded to others as it is 
resolutely insisted upon for ourselves. The splendid 
qualities which he left to his children, we other Ameri- 
cans who are not of Puritan blood also claim as our 
heritage. You, sons of the Puritans, and we, who are 
descended from races whom the Puritans would have 
deemed alien — we are all Americans together. We all 
feel the same pride in the genesis, in the history of 
our people; and therefore this shrine of Puritanism 
is one at which we all gather to pay homage, no matter 
from what country our ancestors sprang. 

We have gained some things that the Puritan had 
not, we of this generation, we of the twentieth cen- 
tury, here in this great republic ; but we are also in 
danger of losing certain things which the Puritan had 
and which we can by no manner of means afford to 
lose. We have gained a joy of living which he had 
not, and which it is a good thing for every people 
to have and to develop. Let us see to it that we do 
not lose what is more important still ; that we do not 
lose the Puritan's iron sense of duty, his unbending, 
unflinching will to do the right as it was given him 



346 Prose 

to see the right. It is a good thing that Hfe should 
gain in sweetness, but only provided that it does not 
lose in strength. Ease and rest and pleasure are good 
things, but only if they come as the reward of work 
well done, of a good fight well won, of strong efifort 
resolutely made and crowned by high achievement. 
The life of mere pleasure, of mere effortless ease, is 
as ignoble for a nation as for an individual. 

The man is but a poor father who teaches his sons 
that ease and pleasure should be their chief object in 
life; the woman who is a mere petted toy, incapable 
of serious purpose, shrinking from effort and duty, is 
more pitiable than the veriest overworked drudge. So 
he is but a poor leader of the people, but a poor na- 
tional adviser, who seeks to make the nation in any 
way subordinate effort to ease, who would teach the 
people not to prize as the greatest blessing the chance 
to do any work, no matter how hard, if it becomes 
their duty to do it. 

To the sons of the Puritans it is almost needless to 
say that the lesson above all others which Puritanism 
can teach this nation is the all-importance of the reso- 
lute performance of duty. If we are men we will 
pass by with contemptuous disdain alike the advisers 
who would seek to lead us into the paths of ignoble 
ease and those who would teach us to admire suc- 
cessful wrongdoing. Our ideals should be high, and 
yet they should be capable of achievement in practical 
fashion ; and we are as little to be excused if we permit 
our ideals to be tainted with what is sordid and mean 
and base as if we allow our power of achievement to 
atrophy and become either incapable of effort or 
capable only of such fantastic effort as to accomplish 
nothing of permanent good. The true doctrine to 
preach to this nation, as to the individuals composing 
this nation, is not the life of ease, but the life of effort. 
If it were in my power to promise the people of this 
land anything, I would not promise them pleasure. J 



Prose 347 

would promise them that stern happiness which comes 
from the sense of having done in practical fashion 
a difficult work which was worth doing. 

The Puritan owed his extraordinary success in sub- 
duing this continent and making it the foundation for 
a social life of ordered liberty primarily to the fact 
that he combined in a very remarkable degree both 
the power of individual initiative, of individual self- 
help, and the power of acting in combination with his 
fellows ; and that furthermore he joined to a high heart 
that shrewd common sense which saves a man from 
the besetting sins of the visionary and the doctrinaire. 
He was stout-hearted and hard-headed ! He had lofty 
purposes, but he had practical good sense, too. He 
could hold his own in the rough workaday world with- 
out clamorous insistence upon being helped by others, 
and yet he could combine with others whenever it be- 
came necessary to do a job which could not be as well 
done by any one man individually. 

These were the qualities which enabled him to do 
his work, and they are the very qualities which we 
must show in doing our work to-day. There is no 
use in our coming here to pay homage to the men who 
founded this nation, unless we first of all come in the 
spirit of trying to do our work to-day as they did their 
work in the yesterdays that have vanished. The prob- 
lems shift from generation to generation, but the spirit 
in which they must be approached, if they are to be 
successfully solved, remains ever the same. The Puri- 
tan tamed the wilderness, and built up a free govern- 
ment on the stump-dotted clearings amid the primeval 
forest. His descendants must try to shape the life of 
our complex industrial civilisation by new devices, by 
new methods, so as to achieve in the end the same re- 
sults of justice and fair dealing toward all. He casts 
aside nothing old merely for the sake of innovation, 
yet he did not hesitate to adopt anything new that 
would serve his purpose. When he planted his com- 



348 Prose 

monwealths on this rugged coast he faced wholly new 
conditions and he had to devise new methods of meet- 
ing them. So we of to-day face wholly new condi- 
tions in our social and industrial life. We should cer- 
tainly not adopt any new scheme for grappling with 
them merely because it is the new and untried ; but we 
cannot afford to shrink from grappling with them, be- 
cause they can only be grappled with by some new 
scheme. 

The Puritan was no Laodicean, no laissez-faire 
theorist. When he saw conduct which was in violation 
of his rights — of the rights of man, the rights of God, 
as he understood them — he attempted to regulate such 
conduct with instant, unquestioning promptness and 
effectiveness. If there was no other way to secure 
conformity with the rule of right, then he smote down 
the transgressor with the iron of his wrath. The spirit 
of the Puritan was a spirit which never shrank from 
regulation of conduct, if such regulation was necessary 
for the public weal ; and this is the spirit which we 
must show to-day whenever it is necessary. 

The utterly changed conditions of our national life 
necessitate changes in certain of our laws, of our gov- 
ernmental methods. Our federal system of govern- 
ment is based upon the theory of leaving to each com- 
munity, to each State, the control over those things 
which affect only its own members and which the peo- 
ple of the locality themselves can best grapple with, 
while providing for national regulation in those matters 
which necessarily affect the nation as a whole. . . . 

National sovereignty is to be upheld in so far as it 
means the sovereignty of the people used for the real 
and ultimate good of the people ; and State's rights 
are to be upheld in so far as they mean the people's 
rights. Especially is this true in dealing with the re- 
lations of the people as a whole to the great corpora- 
tions which are the distinguishing feature of modern 
business conditions. . . . 



Prose 349 

We should all of us work heart and soul for the 
real and permanent betterment which will lift our 
democratic civilisation to a higher level of safety and 
usefulness. Such betterment can come only by the 
slow, steady growth of the spirit which metes a gen- 
erous, but not a sentimental, justice to each man on 
his merits as a man, and which recognises the fact that 
the highest and deepest happiness for the individual 
lies not in selfishness, but in service. 



Morality the Essence of Life. 

WILLIAM M. SALTER. EDITED AND ADAPTED FROM 
"THE IDEAL ELEMENT IN MORALITY." 

"Why is this selection in this volume?" For a thousand reasons. 
It is the product of this age. It is the eloquence of a new time It is 
a literary treasure. No one who reads it need doubt the growth of 
ethical thought. Nothing ever said or written more clearly and dis- 
passionately defines the best tendency of this age, — the tendency to 
shake off the "phantoms of the mind" and pursue the methods of 
logic and reason, — the tendency to put a high value on candid and 
open business methods, the tendency to be judicial instead of emotional, 
and to regard greed and fashion and idleness and pride as forms 
of stupidity if not insanity. 

Morality is a divine and eternal thing. It touches 
the soul with love and awe, with hope and fear. Let 
me bring out the ideal meaning of morality. I wish 
to show that it brings before us great thoughts; 
thoughts touching the deep places of the soul. I wish 
to show that there is something in it which lays hold 
of eternity; something which may well, and does in 
all but the coarsest natures, stir awe and love, and 
hope and fear. Morality has its sanction in its tend- 
ency to promote the general good, the universal 
happiness. 

Moral ideas, what are they? They are thoughts of 
the human mind. To win them and to live in them is^ 
not to lose but to enlarge ourselves. We are not 
merely so much space as is covered by our bodies; — 
but minds that can take in the past and the future, 
that can wander over the earth and climb to the stars, 



350 Prose 

that can muse on what is and think of the better that 
might be. There is no outside to the mind. The 
grandest, divinest, most perfect things are simply 
thoughts of what may be. 

What are more natural and commonplace with us 
than our wishes and wants? But if we reflect a mo- 
ment, it is easy to see that they have an ideal signifi- 
cance. We do not wish for what we have or for what 
we are already ; we wish for what we have not or are 
not, for what we are without, for what, in the literal 
sense, we zvanf. All our wishes and wants go out 
to ideas. Often we set more store by what is not 
than by what is. It seems a part of our nature to do 
so. It belongs to us to reach out, to form ideals. Per- 
haps it is a provision for progress, for life, for move- 
ment. If one has no wishes, no ideals, he is practically 
dead. He has no incentive to movement, is without 
the possibility of becoming more than he is. But there 
are two kinds of ideas. We cannot say that we ought 
to be happy, but only that we should like to be; but 
we do say that we ought to be good. The note of 
authority goes along with a certain class of ideas. We 
live amid ideas to the extent that we really live at all. 
Some of the ideas we simply crave and some seem to 
bind us, — some we can make a goal for our lives if 
we choose, and others seem fixed for us, so that we 
cannot turn from them without inwardly experiencing 
some kind of disgrace. There is no dishonour in not 
having a home or a family, or in not entering on a 
business career. But with a family, to be unfaithful 
to it, or in a business to forget the laws of truth and 
honour, is morally blameworthy. There are alterna- 
tives that do not bind us and we may suit our moods. 
But often we are in the face of alternatives, one of 
which has a distinct urgency about it ; we know it to be 
the better ; it seems to have a claim upon us ; and our 
real task is not to wait. The ideas that thus constrain 
us are moral ideas; the sum of them makes what we 



Prose 351 

call morality. Morality is not what men do but what 
they ought to do; not what they wish but what they 
ought to wish. Morality is the essence ideal. So it 
is with truth. Truth is not what one happens to think. 
It is that which corresponds to the fact. 

Kindliness is a gift of nature to most men. It finds 
a special field of operation in the home where others 
are brought so near to us. How much sweeter is the 
life of the family where kindliness is the law ! But 
suppose that in some family this ceases to be the law. 
Is kindliness no longer a true ideal for that family. 
Surely not! The family life of man may go in one 
way or it may go in another ; but it can go in one way 
only, and go right. There is an ideal for it that can- 
not be changed. 

Just so with the political life of man. The prime con- 
cern of the State should be for justice. The State has 
often stood simply for power; the head of the Statehas 
often made others his slaves. Men have held property, 
even life at his mercy. But does any one hesitate to 
say that the State should stand for justice, that this 
makes an ideal for it? Does any one hesitate to say 
that if the State becomes the possession of men who 
rule for their own and not for the general good, this 
would be retrogression? 

Is there not something imperative in the thought of 
universal justice? Justice, — it is a commonplace word. 
But is it a commonplace thing, — even in our demo- 
cratic republic ? What is it, then ? It is an idea, — and 
one which though we never realised, would not cease 
to give the ideal, and the only ideal, for human govern- 
ment. Not all the tyrants of the past, or the com- 
bined will of the mightiest to-day, can change it. The 
supreme political problem is to find it out completely, 
and to establish it perfectly. If human governments do 
not establish it they will be humbled and cast down. 
But the idea will stand. He who stands by justice, 
let him be aware of it. When justice seems to fail, 



352 Prose 

let him keep his faith, — let him speak the louder and 
stand the firmer, — by the idea. For in truth justice 
might never be on this earth, and yet never lose one 
particle of its authority. 

Again, there is the business life of man. Who does 
not feel that he should be just, and truthful, and can- 
did in business, whether it is to his advantage or not? 
And so with all the institutions of society. There is 
an ideal and a law for each. And for each individual 
life there is an ideal which it is to find and follow. 

We know to a certain extent what makes for order 
and peace among men. What we call the moral ideal 
is so much of it as we know. But how much more 
is there yet to know ! The idea of justice is the best 
part of our moral ideal. But who understands it? 
Who fathoms it? Who sees all that it means and 
must mean to the future? 

Morality calls us away to these visions of the higher 
and better. It is the science of life, — not as it is, but 
as it ought to be. It means looking at life from the 
highest standpoint. It means taking our stand there 
without hesitation, and fearing not to hold the life 
of men to the ideal standard. It may not be a wel- 
come task to pass judgment on ourselves, yet if we are 
real in the matter of moral culture, I do not see how 
we can avoid doing so. 

Still less welcome is it to pass judgment upon others. 
How easy to excuse a friend where we would not ex- 
cuse ourselves! The question often is, which comes 
first, — loyalty to a person or a truth? 

This is ever the test of a true man, — will he yield up 
his ideal conviction to any amount of contrary "facts" ? 
Will he take his stand and keep it though the ruling 
powers of the world were opposed to him? To lose 
the sense of an ideal right, to yield it up before a 
show of might, — that is the only infidelity, the only 
atheism we need have any fear of. 

It is strange when we bear in mind the ideal nature 



Prose 353 

of morality, to hear that moraHty must be based upon 
facts. MoraHty is not a question of facts, but of the 
right of facts to be; it is a question of their corre- 
spondence with a standard of the mind. MoraHty is in 
its nature an ideal and a rule, — a law. Base morality 
— on facts! What facts? There are innumerable 
facts, an induction from which would give us only 
immorality. The good facts, then? But plainly this 
is moving in a circle. There is nothing on which to 
base morality. We do not so much find it, — as de- 
mand it in the world. All separate moral rules may be 
resolved into the supreme one, to seek the universal 
good. Who can give a reason for the supreme rule? 
Irideed, no serious man wants a reason. The supreme 
command appeals immediately to the human mind; it 
is an assertion of the human mind. No honest man 
wants a reason why he should do right any more than 
why he should allow the sun to be in the heavens. 
The sun is there and he sees it. Joy and light and 
warmth come, he knows, from living under its influ- 
ence. So with the idea of the universal good. To 
know it is to love it. To become simply aware of it 
is to feel it to be the true sovereign law of our lives. 
Man belongs to the universal good; he is himself, — 
only as he acts from it and for it. He is a believer in 
good and looks for its triumph. An ideal perfection 
is the only ultimate reason for our existence. 



Index of Authors 



INDEX OF AUTHORS 



PAGE 

Adams, Bristow 

Protect the Trees . . 36 

Adams, Hannah 

The Hebrew Nationality 257 

Adams, John 

^ On " Salt, at the Time of the American Revolution," 4 

Adams, John Quincy 

The Declaration of 1776 89 

Addison, Joseph 

Sir Roger and the Gipsies 57 

Frozen Words . . 85 

/Esop 

The Goose that Laid the Golden Egg ... 14 

Ames, Fisher 

The Sanctity of Treaties 137 

Anonymous 

Sandy and Pippa 5 

Henry Clay's Reception in Baltimore . . . 100 

Restricted Property 213 

A Particular Lady 252 

Antoninus, Marcus Aurelius 

Contentment 212 

Opinion 317 

Aristotle 

A Poor Reward 5 

Ascham, Roger 

Quick Wits 21 

Bancroft, George 

The Revolutionary Alarm 54 

Barre, Col. Isaac 

The Right of Trial 90 

Barrie, James M. 

Peter Pan Among the Birds 23 

357 



358 Prose 

PAGE 

Bayard, James A. 

Judges Should be Free 301 

Bible 

The Lord Is My Shepherd 7 

The Beatitudes ........ 8 

Remember Thy Creator 11 

The Ten Commandments 56 

Charity 211 

Blackhawk 

Address to General Street 83 

Bray, Mrs. Charles 

Reverence 168 

Brougham, Lord Henry 

The Schoolmaster is Abroad 160 

The Fate of the Reformer 286 

Browning, Robert 

The Autocracy of Youth and the Modesty of Age . 251 

Bryan, William Jennings 

The Real Business Man 336 

Burke, Edmund 

American Taxation 220 

England's Right to Tax America .... 221 
On Conciliation with America 291 

Burroughs, John 

The Crow 10 

The Perils of a Bird 21 

The Perils of a Bee 50 

The Eagle 71 

Burt, Thomas 

Labour Struggles 331 

Burton, John E. 

The Old Trail to the Mother-Lode .... 159 

Byron, Lord 

The Death Penalty for New Offences . . . 330 

Cable, George W. 

A Southern Storm 72 

Bras Coupe Declares His Independence . . . 11 1 

Calhoun, John C. 

A Sufficient Naval Force 222 

Against the Force Bill 298 

Carlyle, Thomas 

Clap a Bridle on Thy Tongue . . . . .244 



Index of Authors 359 

PAGE 

Cervantes 

The Slaying of the Wine-Bags 59 

Channing, William Ellery 

The True Distinction of a State .... 61 

Every Man is Great * 02 

The Free Mind .* .* 300 

Chapman, Frank M. 

Protect the Birds 16 

Choate, Rufus 

The Birth-Day of Washington 94 

Clay, Henry 

The Noblest Public Virtue 224 

Cleveland, Grover 

Trusts 335 

Collodi, C. 

The Oily Driver 7 

The Country of Playthings 11 

The Little Wooden Puppet Tells How He Became a 

Donkey 13 

Constitution of the United States, The . . . 132 

Curtis, George William 

My Castles in Spain 103 

As Others See Us 200 

Curtius, Quintus . 

Speech of a Scythian to Alexander .... 282 

Custer, Elizabeth B. 

All Around a Bird's Nest 16 

A Blizzard 72 

Reverence for Motherhood 117 

De Amicis, Edmondo 

My Brother's Schoolmistress 29 

The School "48 

The Poor 62 

The Evening School 114 

How to Welcome a Schoolmate from a Foreign Land 151 

De Guerin, Eugenie 

A Bird's Voice 6 

A Child Can Be Just 9 

Cleansing the Fountain 28 



360 Prose 



Demosthenes 

Against Philip 63 

On Meidias, the Rich, at the Bar of Justice . . 95 

Not Vanquished by Philip (Oration on the Crown) 278 

The Law of Leptines 280 

Dewey, Rev. Orville 

The Nobility of Labour 28 

Doane, George Washington 

The Gentleman 116 

Eliot, George 

Mr. Tulliver's Opinion of His Wife and Children . 327 

Emerson, Ralph Waldo 

Compensation 138 

A Friend 156 

Self-Reliance 215 

A Man Passes for That He is Worth . . . 245 
Emancipation of the Negroes in the British West 

Indies . . 258 

Everett, Edward 

What Good Will the Monument Do? . . . . 118 

Imperishability of Great Examples . . . . 167 

The May-flower 288 

The Rights of Indians Defended .... 289 

Fenelon 

The Largest Love 5 

Flint, Timothy 

The Character of North American Indians . . 234 

Fox, Charles James 

A Political Pause 171 

The Foreign Policy of Washington .... 323 

Franklin, Benjamin 

The Whistle 14 

Turning the Grindstone 22 

Abraham and the Fire-Worshippers .... 210 

Froebel, Friedrich 

Conscious Activity 311 

Garrison, William Lloyd 

Abolition 139 

Gilder, Jeannette L. 

Putting All the Eggs in One Basket .... 66 



Index of Authors 361 

PAGE 

Gilder, Richard Watson 

The Gift of Eloquence 216 

Goldsmith, Oliver 

Vanity at the Vicar's lOS 

GouGAR, Kate 

Do Men Merit Franchise? 329 

Grant, Ulysses S. 

A Lincoln Story 35 

Grattan, Henry 

Character of William Pitt, Earl of Chatham . . 266 

National Gratitude 295 

Sectarian Tyranny 324 

Hayne, Robert J. 

The South During the Revolution .... 296 

Henderson, C. Hanford 

Good-Breeding 255 

Henry, Patrick 

An Appeal to Arms 172 

The War is Inevitable I74 

The Return of British Fugitives . . . .225 

Holland, J. G. 

Truth and Truthfulness 152 

Homer 

The Lotus-Eaters 20 

Ulysses at the Home of Circe 45 

Elpenor and the Wine-Cup i57 

Horace 

The Country Mouse and the City Mouse . . 26 

Hughes, Thomas 

Tom Brown Goes to Rugby 12 

Hugo, Victor 

The Street Arab of Paris 26 

A Republic or a Monarchy? 325 

Ingersoll, Robert G. 

On Abraham Lincoln 218 

Irving, Washington 

The Phantom-Ship 81 

The Home-Coming of Rip Van Wmkle ... 122 

Jefferson, Thomas 

The Declaration of Independence . . . . 129 



362 Prose 

PAGE 

Johnson, Samuel 

Letter to Lord Chesterfield 261 

Johnstone, Mrs. 

A Little Lecture for a Little Girl .... g 

JUDSON, L. C. 

Saying Too Much 44 

Karr, Alphonse 

What Is Property? 38 

The Stream that was Made to Work . . .149 

Kellogg, Elijah 

Spartacus to the Gladiators 263 

KiNGSLEY, Charles 

Under the Flapdoodle Trees 12 

Examination Day in the Land of the Tomtoddies . 143 
Prophesying After the Event 204 

Knowles, J. Sheridan 

Crossing the Rubicon 318 

Lamb, Charles 

Bo-bo and the Roast Pig 107 

Rising with the Lark 309 

Lanier, Sidney 

Cold 6 

My Alligator's Home T] 

The First Home 243 

Silence 316 

Lincoln, Abraham 

The Black-Hawk War 8 

Suspicion 157 

Address at Gettysburg 217 

The Bixby Letter 260 

Livingston, Robert L. 

Aristocracy 161 

Livy. 

Virginius, as Tribune, Refuses the Appeal of Ap- 
pius Claudius 25 

Lytton, Lord 

Earnestness . . 43 

Mabie, Hamilton 

The Passion for Perfection 256 

Maeterlinck, Maurice 

The Life of a Father Bee 250 



Index of Authors 363 

PAGE 

Macaulay, Thomas B. 

Men Always Fit for Freedom 312 

Markham, Edwin 

Our Poets Have Discovered America ... 78 

Spinners in the Dark 342 

Milton, John 

On His Blindness ....... 152 

Vindication of the Press 208 

MiRABEAU, Count De 

Eulogium on Franklin 162 

MooRE, John Trot wood 

The Model Cotton Mill 207 

Running Business on the Golden Rule . . .170 

I The Rights of Childhood 312 

More, Sir Thomas 

Hunting in Utopia 39 

Muir, John 

A Wind-Storm in the Forests of California . . 74 

Naylor, C. C. 

American Labourers 299 

Paley, William 

Monopoly 100 

Parsons, Frank 

Old-Age Pensions 341 

Phillips, Charles 

The Character of Washington 52 

Pitt, William (Earl of Chatham) 

America Unconquerable . 134 

Against Employing Indians in War .... 175 
The First Step to Reconciliation with America : 
I. The Removal of Troops from Boston . . . 227 
n. The Repeal Claimed by Americans as a Right . 229 

Pitt, William (The Second) 

Barbarism of Our British Ancestors . . . .119 
The American War Denounced 294 

Plato 

Defence of Socrates 267 

The Speech of Socrates on His Own Condemnation . 273 
Death of Socrates 275 

Pulteney, William 

On Reducing the Army . . . . , ♦ 320 



364 Prose 

PAGE 
QUINCY, JOSIAH 

Against the Embargo 231 

QUINCY, JosiAH, Jr. 

British Aggressions 177 

Rainsford, William 

The Vital Touch in Life 97 

Appeal to the Best in Men 122 

Roosevelt, Theodore 

Peace and Righteousness 50 

The Puritans 344 

Rosebery, Lord 

Queen Victoria 337 

RusKiN, John 

The Patience of Flowers 4 

Great Art 67 

Men, Better Than Territory 97 

The Freedom of the Fly loi 

Sensitiveness 154 

Humility versus Vain Glory 248 

What a Great Nation Cannot Do ... . 285 

Sallust 

Gains Marius to the Romans, on the Objections to 
Making Him General 283 

Salter, William M. 

Morality, the Essence of Life ..... 349 

Shakespeare, William 

Cassio on Intemperance 42 

Brutus' Speech on the Death of Caesar . . . 126 

Smith, Rev. Sydney 

The Folly of Pride 46 

Taxes, the Price of Glory 53 

Rejection of the Reform Bill . . . .238 

Stevens 

A Russian Bath 147 

Stockton, Frank R. 

The Donkey-Clock 18 

The Little Rose-Clock 40 

How the Griffin Taught School .... 79 

Stuart, Ruth McEnery 

Sonny's Diploma 305 

Sumner, Charles 

The Duel of Nations . . . , , , ,127 



Index of Authors 365 

PAGE 

Talmage, Thomas De Witt 

The Influence of a Clean Face 3 

Thoreau, Henry David 

High Life 203 

TiLLOTsoN^ John 

Sincerity 246 

Van Dyke, Henry 

Creative Education 310 

Warner, Charles Dudley 

No Farming Without a Boy 65 

Washington, George 
> What Every Little Child Should Know About 

Politeness 3 

On Profanity in the Army 64 

France and the United States g8 

To the American Troops Before the Battle of Long 

Island 178 

Against Foreign Entanglements 321 

Webster, Daniel 

The Fourth of July 30 

Love of Home 41 

Liberty and Union, One and Inseparable . ' . .135 
On the Supposed Speech of John Adams . . .163 
On Sudden Political Conversions .... 232 
Peaceable Secession 297 

Wilson, Henry 

Northern Labourers 219 

Winslow, Rev. Horace 

Treatment of Sisters 155 

Wolfe, General 

To the Army Before Quebec 239 

Yates, Richard 

Separation from New England 171 

Zeno 

Virtue Its Own Reward 9 



APR 7 1908 




I 





